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The House of 


A NOVEL, 



By W. P. NEEDHAM, 

AUTHOR OF 

Phantasmagoriau Theology, Etc. 


^ copyright 

DEC 24 18P9 — ) ( 


5 \ 3 (£> ^ 

‘^'^SHINGTO^ 


\0 


I 


RICHMOND, INDIANA: 


M. CULLATON & CO., PRINTERS AND BINDERS. 

1888 . 







Entered according to Act of Congress, in 


tlie year 18SS, 


]iY W. P. NEEDHA3F, 

Tn the Oflice'of the Librarian of CongreJ^s, at Washington, i). ( 




I 


‘(90 HVLj ‘'Dai: I’i 


CARL AND BESSIE. 


THIS HOOK IS AFFECTION A TELY INSCRIBED. 


MAY THEY ABIDE IN THE STRENGTH OE THE 

% 


HOLY HKESKNCE. 


W. P. N. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

Nathaniel Chadsworth Graydon and his Book...., 5 

Minerva and her Daughters 18 

A Spinster of the Old School 26 

Shall we Equalize the Chances ? 34 

Among the Roses 45 

Familiar Spirits 55 

The Departure 67 

The Flight 76 

In Search .of a Cab and two White Horses 91 

Alas, for the Rarity of Christian Charity . . 104 

The Wasp and the Dagger 115 

A Revelation 124 

“The Light shineth in Darkness,” 188 

“And the Darkness Comprehendeth it not,” 152 

An Object Lesson 161 

A Tramp Utilized 172 

Le Petite Aimee 185 

He was a Man of Nerve 197 

A Portrait Unveiled 210 

An Unexpected Fvent 224 

r 

The Man with a Cork Leg . 281 

Knots Untied 241 

A Bridal Tour 256 

“All’s Well that Fnds Well,” 265 


THE HOUSE OF GEAYDON. 


CHAPTER I. 

NATHANIEL CHADSWORTH GRAYDON AND HIS BOOK. 

Some men are positively bad, others negatively good. 
Of the latter class I mention Nathaniel Chadsworth Graydon, 
Esq., but in doing so refer to his early life, or rather to the 
first formations of his character, which I think the reader will 
conclude were happily changed prior to the commencement 
of this story. In early manhood, some said he was evil-minded, 
others that his motives were pure, notwithstanding his inability 
to govern his passions and hide the glaring defects of his char- 
acter. As a matter of fact he was, in those days, a strange 
mixture of good and evil, but if his evil deeds and his good 
deeds had been separated, and placed on each side of the 
unerring scales, it is quite logical to suppose, in the light of 
facts, that the sweets would have outweighed the bitter, in 
this man’s influence. But in weighing a man’s character, and 
in estimating his worth, if you would arrive at a correct con- 
clusion, give his motives avoirdupois; charge his heredi- 
tary taints to Adam, and allow the gossip and chatter of idle 
tongues no place in your summary of facts. For, you under- 
stand, there is a difference, sometimes quite a difference, be- 
tween character and reputation. 

That coarse and cowardly people had done much to mar 
the happiness and destroy the aspirations of his early years 
was afterwards conceded by his neighbors and even his 
enemies. That he was brave enough to accept every situation 


6 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


without flinching, and to anticipate the blessings of faith and 
hope, when his environments were foreboding, are well known 
facts. As years passed by the moral .strength of this man’s 
nature gathered force and began to assert itself. It was 
no longer necessary to use a microscope in discerning the 
preponderance of good in his character. He subdued him- 
self, and, we have it from most respectable authority, that 
such a one is greater than ‘^who taketh a city.” His evil 
deeds were under his feet, and at forty the world had ceased 
finding fault. The Miss Nancies” of society were convinced 
that he was an upright citizen, and the Miss Nancies” were 
correct. He triumphed over his evil desires and became a 
good man, whereupon the world seemed to lose all interest in 
his welfare. Society is like a bull pup after the small boy in 
a sour apple tree, it barks until the fruit is safe, and scares the 
evil-doer into the policy of doing right, after which it leaves 
him alone. But society is continually barking up the wrong 
tree, and sometimes^ its only language is a bark. Nathaniel 
did not require the services of the bull pup, for his innate 
honesty and fine sense of right and wrong would have brought 
him to a sense of duty under any circumstances. He was 
one of nature’s noblemen, and I think the good God, with 
his own hand, squeezes the lineaments of each honest man’s 
face into proper shape. Albeit, the devil may interfere with 
God’s designs to some extent, he can not altogether destroy 
or mutilate the divine architecture of an honest man’s face. 
It is said by some well meaning and enthusiastic evolutionists 
that on each man’s face is discernible the animal from whence 
he ascended — the ape, tiger, bear, serpent, or what not in the 
kingdom of beasts. This theory is to be accepted cautiously, 
for a man’s face is sometimes made to glow with the ideas 
you have of his character — sometimes these ideas dre right, 
sometimes wrong. If a man does some courageous and noble 
deed in your eyes, you can trace the lion in his face and 
actions ; if he is guilty of some misdeed, and is beneath your 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


7 


standard of respectability, you can see the serpent in his 
countenance; if by much and commonplace repetition he 
attracts your attention, you see the parrot ; if by a ponderous 
display of vitality and jumborosity he exhibits himself, you 
see the elephant; if musical, you may hear the notes of the 
nightingale in his voice; if strong and fearless, you see the 
eagle soaring to its home above the clouds; if stupid, the 
tortoise; if fretful and cruelly pointed, the porcupine; it 
practical, the beaver; if industrious, the ant; if gentle, the 
dove; if cowardly, the hyena; if only useful, the ox or ass; 
if spiteful and hurtful, the spider; if sulky, the bear; if a 
gourmand, the hog ; if noisy and troublesome, the dog ; if 
gaudy, the peafowl; if non-committal, the hedgehog; if beau- 
tiful and airy, the butterfly; if sanguine, the mosquito; if 
without any natural endowments, the sheep ; if not appre- 
ciated, the housefly ; if permiscuous,' the English sparrow ; if 
wicked and worthless, the wasp; if stainless and pure, the 
lamb ; and in the work of a liar and slanderer, you may trace 
the scratches of a vicious cat. Now, Graydon was an evolu- 
tionist of some kind; at least, he believed that ‘Gike produces 
like ’’ until something happens. Whether it was his ideas of 
evolution or not I never knew, but from some illy-defined and 
misshapen purpose he began, in early life, to compile and 
collate the genealogy of his ancestors. It was rumored that 
he had his family catalogued and pedigreed as far back as 
Adam, and that a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table, 
William Tell, Ossian, and many other mythical characters 
were considered in the list. I do not believe there was a 
grain of truth in the rumor, but certain it is that he had writ- 
ten, in a very large book, as accurately as possible, a brief 
mention of his ancestors, embracing, so far as it had been 
possible for him to obtain knowledge from various sources, 
a succinct sketch of their lives, and reciting many incidents 
connected with their history. In many instances the incidents 
were given without the sketch, and the ancestry of his 


'8 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


deceased as well as that of his living wife were mentioned at 
length. His work in this line had been tedious, but with 
painstaking perseverance he had succeeded in producing the 
most gratifying results, that is, gratifying to himself, for I 
think no one was ever interested in the matter but himself. 
His genealogical record was probably as accurate as the first 
book of Chronicles, and equally interesting, although Ezra 
may have been more minute in detail. On the back of this 
written volume was scrawled in large black letters the follow- 
ing title: ‘‘Book of the House of Gray don.'’ I am not 
able to state the exact meaning of the title. On first reading 
it seems rather meaningless, but Graydon understood it, and 
he was the only one interested. At the time of the opening 
of this story Nathaniel was past seventy years of age, “ living 
on borrowed time,” as he sometimes said. Being of a 
scholarly disposition, and deprived of a classical education, he 
had, by most rigid discipline and the hardest kind of brain 
work, acquired a vast fund of information, which means that 
he had a good, old-fashioned education, and was a tolerably 
fair American scholar. 

Corn-huskers, in any new country, must necessarily pre- 
cede the scholars. The wilderness must be subdued before it 
can “blossom as the rose.” A nation must be of ripe age 
before its civilization produces learned men, or before the 
individual has leisure to increase his brain power to its fullest 
capacity. Grim visaged school marms with reticules and 
warts, must sweep over the land as densely as did the grass- 
hoppers over the green fields of Kansas maize ; first-class 
school masters and good school buildings must multiply, until 
every cross road has an amateur college, before the influence 
of general education is felt, and great scholars begin to adorn 
the land. Graydon was a very fair specimen of the typical 
American scholar, living in cultured retirement, interested 
exclusively, almost, in the affairs of his family circle, for he 
had a ):}mily of great merit. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAVDON. 


9 


He had played two games on the matrimonial checker- 
board, and, being a wise man, his experience was of vast 
benefit in the second game. 

The first partner of his joys and ills was a robust country 
damsel, whose maiden nanie was Jemima Jane Driver. Their 
temperaments were not congenial, but Nathaniel had learned 
to make the best of a bad bargain, and so endured his matri- 
monial afflictions until Providence interfered in his behalf and 
removed the gentle Jemima to that place where men and 
women are ‘Dieither married nor given in marriage.’’ Five 
children were the result of this union, Terpsichore, Clytem- 
nestra, Iphigenia, Rhadamanthus, and Hamlet. Only two, 
Terpsichore the eldest and Hamlet the youngest, reached the 
age of maturity. The others were probably christened too 
early in life, and could not survive the shock. 

Strange as it may seem, the buxom Jemima had scarcely 
entered the land of shades until Nathaniel Gray don began to 
anticipate the joys of a second marriage. There is, about 
this calamity of wedlock, a fascination which he, like other 
men, was not able to resist. Once married, a man is always 
married ; if otherwise, it is not his fault. Occasionally a man 
is married too much, but not often. If the first wife be a 
disaster, is it fair to presume that number two will be a still 
greater disaster ? Certainly not. If a man’s first matrimonial 
venture is not a success, he should keep on getting married 
until he has sense enough to choose a congenial partner. 
Nathaniel argued that life was a bore if a man is obliged to 
go it alone, and that a woman was as necessary in a man’s 
home as a bottle of liniment, especially in case of sickness. 
So he married a second time with a vague idea that his wife 
would prevent rheumatism and gout, and prove to be a sweet 
companion ; and had no idea of the great value of the prize 
he had won, until she revealed her character after marriage. 
There was a difference of some twenty years in their ages, 
and the gossips said that Minerva Eldridge had married her 


lO 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


grandfather ; but the soft-eyed Minerva knew a thing or two 
about matrimony, which the gossips knew not. She was a 
modest, unassuming creature, whose entire being was satu- 
rated with a sense of her duty to her Lord, and to humanity. 
She accepted the plan of salvation without a murmur of 
dissent, and, in a quiet, Quaker-like way, sent forth an influ- 
ence for good which was acknowledged throughout the com- 
munity. Her soft brown hair and dark eyes, together with a 
graceful contour and girlish simplicity, had captured the soul 
of iron-bound Nathaniel, and from that hour he was a changed 
man. All the good that was in him came to the surface, and 
old things became altogether new. 

In time three children came to bless them, three girls, who 
at the opening of this story were truly the three graces of a 
happy home. Minerva Graydon had no thought above the 
will of her God and the welfare of her children. Her love 
was their strength, and her wishes were to them a sweet, but 
inexorable law. If in serving her Lord she loved her children 
more, or if in loving her children she served her Lord the 
best, she argued not. She knew her duty and did it sweetly, 
quietly, and without ostentation. She was a matron of Israel, 
blazing a way for her children through the deep and danger- 
ous tangles of this world to a land whose dim outlines are 
visible only to the eye of faith. 

In book-making it is fashionable to give a lengthy and ex- 
aggerated description of each prominent character, but I shall 
omit this, knowing that there will be many other things, in 
the story, equally straining on the nervous system of the reader. 
By way of introduction I wish to cite the reader to a few 
biographical sketches taken from the perspicuous book of the 
House of Graydon.’’ Each one of the immediate family 
had been given a page, but none of the pages were filled ; 
only a few entries made at odd times. On page nine hundred 
were the following entries : 

“ Terpsichore Graydon, eldest daughter of Nathaniel Chadsworth 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. II 

and Jemima Jane Graydon, was born Dec. 27th, in the year of our Lord 
18 — . At the age of five years she is willful and somewhat selfish, 
much like the Drivers. * * * At the age of ten is proud, vain, 

and smitten easily by the opposite sex; very much like the Drivers in 
this respect. * * * At twenty is pretty, rather hard featured, with 

sandy hair inclined to curl, Roman nose, gray eyes, large hands and 
feet, like the Drivers. * * * At thirty is exhausting all the re- 
sources of her nature in search of a husband. * * * At thir.ty- 

five she is angular, keen visaged, talkative, and an uncompromising 
advocate of female suffrage. * * * At forty her hair is slightly 

tinged with gray, eye brows heavy, and general appearance rather 
masculine. Assumes the airs of a school girl and dresses accordingly. 
The worst is feared.” 

On page nine hundred and one were entered the birth and 
death of little Clytemnestra. On page nine hundred and two, 
the birth and death of Iphigenia. On page nine hundred 
and three, birth and death of Rhadamanthus, poor boy. On 
page nine hundred and four was the following ; 

“Hamlet Graydon, youngest son of Nathaniel Chadsworth and 
Jemima Jane Graydon, was born May 1st, 18 — . At five, agile and 
quick to learn. * * * At ten, black-eyed, black curly hair, strong 

in his passibns and affections. Is in many respects like his ancestor, 
Oliver Cromwell Graydon. (See page 502.) * * * At twelve, 

shows the effects of evil associations and has some of the character- 
istics of the Drivers.” 

Right here the entries on Hamlet’s sketch ended and a lead 
pencil cross had been drawn over it, indicating a sudden end 
of the young man’s biographical career. 

On page nine hundred and five began a history of the an- 
cestry of Mrs. Minerva Graydon, which continued to page 
nine hundred and forty. On page nine hundred and forty 
was the following : 

“ Aglaia, eldest daughter of Nathaniel Chadsworth and Minerva 
Graydon, born June 20th, 18 — . At ten she has lustrous black eyes 
and magnificient black, wavy hair ; soft of speech and quite timid, 
but has a fiery disposition when aroused or imposed upon. * * 

At twenty, dreamy, tender-hearted and beloved by all. She is very 
beautiful but rather reserved and has none of the spiteful ways and 


12 


THE HOUSE OF GRAVDON. 


forcible characteristics usually accorded to black-eyed and black- 
haired persons, unless these qualities are latent ; is inclined to write 
poetry, and is in many ways like her grandmother, Elizabeth Barrett 
Browning Eldridge.” 

On page nine hundred and forty-one the following entries 
had been made, to-wit : 

“Thalia, second daughter of Nathaniel Chadsworth and Minerva 
Graydon, born Jan. 2nd, 18 — . At the age of ten is a great favorite 
among the young people ; brown hair and eyes ; eyes much darker 
than hair ; is quite attractive. At fifteen, is much attached 

to her mother, spiritually minded, and passionately fond of beautiful 
paintings and the scenery of Nature ; is very much Uke her mother 
and her great, great grandmother. Rose Elizabeth Graydon. ( See 
page 712.)’’ 

The next page, nine hundred and forty- two, contained the 
following mention of the youngest daughter : 

“ Euphrosyne, youngest daughter of Nathaniel Chadsworth and 
Minerva Graydon, was born September 12th, 18 — . At five she was 
acknowledged the most bewitchingly beautiful child in the neighbor- 
hood. * * * At ten an Italian artist, attracted by her Circassian 

style of beauty, painted her portrait, by permission, and it is now in 
his studio at Rome, admired by all who gaze upon it. He has re- 
fused an offer of five hundred dollars for the picture. * At 

sixteen — how is it possible for an old man like me to describe her ? 
She is as radiant as an angel and as charming and graceful as a queen. 
Her hair is the most wonderful part about her ; very long, abundant, 
soft as the silken hair of the goats of Kedar, and in color lighter than 
flax. She wears it school-girl fashion sometimes, and when loose it 
falls around her in graceful profusion to her hips. Her eyes are as 
blue as the skies ‘ that bend above her, ’and the bloom of health red- 
dens her cheeks. Thanks to the careful training of a wise mother, 
she is neither spoiled nor proud of her great beauty and the constant 
attention of her friends. Flattery does not seem to affect her, and she 
is just as pure as she is beautiful. She is devotedly attached to her 
piano and gives promise of becoming a fine musician. In spirit she 
is like her mother and her great grandmother, Beatrice Graydon. 

( See page 804.)” 

The reader will pardon the extravagance of the recital of 
Euphrosyne’s charms. He was an old man and she was his 
favorite child. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


13 


At the time of which I speak Euphrosyne was seventeen 
years of age and past ; Thalia was twenty, and Aglaia twenty- 
two. Terpsichore’s age was uncertain, or rather I am per- 
suaded to withhold any information I may have in regard to 
it, for it is a matter in which the general public are not inter- 
ested. Her mission in the world is to get married, and I 
might, even at this late date, spoil some of her schemes for 
entrapping a husband. I never learned Minerva’s age, but it 
was probably forty or forty-five at the opening of this story. 


CHAPTEE II. 

MINERVA AND HER DAUGHTERS. 

In the perusal of some of the foregoing remarks you may 
have been led to the conclusion that Graydon was, in personal 
appearance, aged and decrepit. I hasten to correct this 
impression, if such exists, for, although it is true that he was 
past seventy, yet his ‘^eye was not dim nor his natural forces 
abated.” In order that the reader become better acquainted 
with him and the gentle Minerva, I will introduce them on a 
bright, crisp, winter’s night, as they converse together before 
retiring, and while they are awaiting the return of the girls 
from their Unity Club lecture, in progress at the opera house. 
All were in attendance at the lecture except Terp, who suf- 
fered with neuralgia up stairs. 

The old man occupied an easy chair, and had been read- 
ing from the ‘‘Book of the House of Graydon,” and com- 
menting on some of the lives and characters therein men- 
tioned. Now, take your photograph of him as he sits there 
so quietly. Hair on a man’s face gives him an untidy and 
goat-like appearance; therefore, Nathaniel’s firm set jaws 


14 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


were cleanly shaven, for he was a man of orderly habits, and 
believed that his personal appearance should always be in 
keeping with that of his family, the members of which were 
models of neatness. A heavy moustache and eyebrows of 
gray contrasted becomingly with his dark red face. His loose 
flowing gown, on this occasion, fell gracefully around him, 
and every article of clothing, including his stiff linen 
collar and tie, were just as becoming and appropriate as any 
gentleman’s clothing should be, and faultlessly clean. His 
sleek iron-gray hair and black piercing eyes, shaded by their 
heavy brows, gave great strength to his countenance. Now, 
when a man stands erect and you notice that his shoulders 
are square, and that he is not bow-legged nor warped in the 
chest, and that he walks in a very graceful manner with an 
obvious desire to get there as soon as any one, you say at 
once, ‘Mie has a military bearing.” So you would have said 
of Nathaniel Graydon. Whether he was cleaning his pig- 
sties or his cow stables, which he sometimes did ; or whether 
he was delivering a lecture to an intelligent audience, which 
he sometimes did ; or whether he was at home in the deep 
enjoyment of his family circle, which of late was a growing 
habit; or whether he was abroad in the society of other men 
of the world, which was frequently the case, he always wore 
the same commanding, or military, aspect. There was no 
half-way station between his ‘‘Yes” and his “No.” When 
he said “Yes,” his neighbors did not understand him to mean 
“No.” When he said “ No,” it was never understood as an 
affirmative. He was quick to take offense and strike back, 
but, like the true soldier, just-as ready to forgive. I speak of 
his standing in the community in which he lived. In his/am- 
ily he was neither harsh nor firm, but a sweet-tempered gen- 
tleman of refinement. He lived a dual life, presenting to 
the world his rough exterior and to his family his refined 
interior. It is true that he had enemies, but it is equally true 
that he had a host of warm friends. I would speak further 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


15 


of his characteristics, but I know you are anxious to become 
acquainted with him and learn what was said on the crisp 
winter evening. 

‘‘My dear Minerva, it is quite proper that you, like the 
mother of the Gracchi, should point to your children as your 
jewels, and, like Israel’s pillar of fire, be their guide when the 
way is dark and the road rough to their untried feet; but, 
sweet wife, are not your household burdens sometimes too 
heavy ? Do you not often grow weary in performing duties 
which should be left for other hands?” The old man spoke 
not imperatively, nor as one having authority, but softly and 
sweetly as a woman. 

“There was a woman of the tribe of Levi,” said Minerva, 
“who by her faithfulness and motherly love saved the life 01 
her babe, and gave to coming ages the illustrious law-giver 
of Israel, and made it possible for Miriam to give to the 
world the riches of her wisdom. Dost think the woman of 
the tribe of Levi received a small compensation? Nay, my 
husband, mine is a labor of love and brings no fatigue. Love 
is life. Hate is death. In a true mother’s love there is liberty, 
and life, and strength ; its exercise brings repose and sweet 
tranquility to soul and body. In loving our children we serve 
the Lord, and you remember the precious words of the 
prophet: ‘They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their 
strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall 
run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.’ ” 

“Exactly, exactly, you are always right, Minerva,” said 
this enthusiastic old gentleman ; “so altogether different from 
Jemima Jane, of whom I have just been reading in the ‘ Book 
of the House of Gray don.’ The characters of our three 
daughters are beautiful and symmetrical ; they were as clay in 
your hands, and who knows but what the world may be ben- 
efited by their genius. Euphrosyne is undoubtedly one of 
the greatest musicians in the west.” 

“Nathaniel,” said Minerva, “thee must recollect that 
Frossie is just beginning to learn music.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


l6 


‘‘Quite right, my dear Minerva,^’ replied the old man; 
“but she is nevertheless a great musician, only she needs to 
be developed.” 

“Remember always,” said Minerva, who was somewhat 
amused at her husband’s enthusiastic ideas, “that with thee 
I entertain a high regard for our daughters’ welfare and future 
success.” 

“Yes, wife, I am aware of it,” musingly, “and there is 
our gentle but impassioned Thalia, who is so fondly attached 
to you, and seems never to tire of your caresses. I am proud 
of her, for she is one of the greatest painters in this country.” 

“ Nathaniel,” cried Minerva, “ thee forgets that our Thalia 
is just beginning to paint.” 

“Exactly, exactly,” said the old man; “she is a great 
painter just the same, only not developed. And there is 
Aglaia, she is one of the most graceful and versatile writers 
of prose and verse in the west.” 

“My dear,” said the soft voice, “dost remember that 
Aggie has written but one accepted contribution, the poem en- 
titled ‘November,’ published in the ‘Commercial Enterprise ?’ ” 

“Correct again,” softly said the old man, “but she only 
needs development.” 

“And there is Terpsichore,” he continued, after a short 
pause. “Poor Terp, she is somewhat of a catastrophe, yet 
succeeds quite well in some of her chosen duties; but she is 
a thoroughbred Driver, and the Drivers, as far back as I have 
been able to trace them, were all wrong, up stairs. Her 
mother, my lamented partner, Jemima Jane, was convinced 
that cayenne was good for all the ills that flesh is heir to, and 
she sprinkled my underclothes with it until I would sometimes 
be but little better than a perambulating blister ; there was 
cayenne in the drinking water, cayenne in the bath tub, 
cayenne in the toast, on the meats, and in every article of 
food. You may well suppose that she made it hot for me. 
Terp’s great uncle. Smith Driver, or ‘Old Smithereens,’ as 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


17 


the boys called him, was immensely wealthy, but was fanati- 
cally certain that himself and family would be driven to .star- 
vation and perhaps the county asylum for the poor. He lived 
as parsimoniously as a beggar. Amanda Driver, a grand- 
mother along the line somewhere, was one of those cranky 
Millerites who prepared for an ascension to heaven, and on 
the morning fixed for the blowing of GabriePs trumpet, put 
on her ascension robe, which was simply her best night-gown, 
trimmed in black velvet, with a red sash around the waist. 
The fool jumped off the barn and broke her leg, and was a 
cripple during the rest of her life. One of her great-grand- 
fathers, away back, commenced the publication of a news- 
paper, and tried to make money by publishing advanced 
ideas about religion and politics. One of her grand aunts 
joined the Oneida community, and one joined the Church or 
Latter-day Saints and wandered off with the Mormons, was 
sealed to a long-haired beast, and became a small fraction of 
a wife. Yes, the Drivers were all coarse-m’eated, noisy 
‘ What-is-i<^s,’ and I am sorry to say that Terpsichore is alto- 
gether a Driver. Recently she has been courting the Presby- 
terian minister, who, you know, is an old bachelor without 
matrimonial aspirations. The results are amazingly terrific.. 
The members of the congregation were aware of her designs 
and the pastor was not, but, notwithstanding, a miniature 
scandal began to brew and bubble. Terp, being advised of 
this, wrote him a note, telling him of her affection and that 
the gossips were busy with their names. The poor fellow was 
completely prostrated, as much so as if he had been struck by 
lightning. I learned to-day that he has resigned and left 
town. I know that it is my duty to talk to her, but she is so 
much like the Drivers that good advice would be wasted. 
Oh, how I despise her mincing ways and affected airs! Yes- 
terday I saw her with a school-girl hat stuck on top of her 
head, with her little dapple gray curls flying around her face, 
and her head looking like a hurrah’s perch. I am sorry I did 


i8 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


not have the courage to speak to her then, but she no longer 
cares for my advice, or, seemingly, for my friendship. 
Sophocles says : ^ He that throws a faithful friend away, I 
count as bad as if he threw his life away;’ so I regard Terpsi- 
chore, for I would be her friend, be glad to advise her, but 
she declines to receive instruction or aid from me, and I can 
scarcely speak to her about her conduct without becoming 
angry.” 

^Hs it well for thee,” said the gentle voice, ‘Ho speak 
ill of thine own ? She is thine own flesh and blood, and it is 
the will of God that thy love should be about her. Children, 
whatever may be their faults, are entitled to the warmth of 
parental affection, for they are blessings from heaven. If I 
were childless I would be as unhappy as Hannah of old, who, 
being without offspring, went down to Shiloh in great agony 
of soul, and prayed that God would give her a child. Plead- 
ing for something upon which to bestow a mother’s love, will- 
ing to risk the pangs and dangers of child-birth, that she 
might perform the highest and holiest duty of womanhood, 
that of moulding and shaping the destiny of a human soul — 
of training a child in the fear of the Lord.” 

“Sweet Minerva,” in tones that were wonderfully soft 
and musical, “I can but reply in the words of Solomon, 
‘Thy lips, oh my spouse, drop as the honey comb; honey 
and milk are under thy tongue.’ ” 

“ Peace be with thee, my noble husband,” she said, with a 
flush of pleasure. “Thy soul will lead thee aright, and thou 
art to me like the great Hector, to whom his faithful wife said, 
‘Thou art my father, my brother, and blooming husband.’ 
Often have I thought to speak of your absent son Hamlet 
and .” 

“Damnation,” cried Nathaniel, with his society accent, 
“Why should his name be forever linked with my family? 
He is a Driver ! a scoundrel ! an ingrate ! an outcast ! curse 
him ! ” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAVDON. 


19 


He had arisen and was walking excitedly around the room. 
Minerva, being thoroughly alarmed and greatly distressed, 
arose quietly and came quickly to his side. 

^‘Nathaniel,” she said softly and tenderly. 

Instantly he was out of society and safe at home. ‘^Par- 
don me,” he said, and blushed like a school girl. 

“If it gives thee pain, I will not speak of him,” she con- 
tinued; “but he is bone of thy bone, and flesh of thy flesh. 
I am sure he had many of the best qualities of the Graydons, 
so I have heard, and that in personal appearance he resembles 
his father. Even though he possess some of the bad qualities 
of the Drivers, remember that he is thine. Forgive him, oh, 
husband, and take him to thy heart again. Let the prodigal 
return to the home of his youth.” 

“I am willing to concede that, as a boy, he had many 
excellent qualities,” he said musingly. “That was long 
ago ; he is now a man, and I haven’t heard from him in years. 
He has talent, but I will not forgive him. He might have 
made a good and useful citizen, and perhaps he is such. I 
hope he is, but — ” looking cautiously around the room and 
dropping his voice to a whisper, “damn the Drivers.” 

Minerva quietly resumed her sewing and he fell into a pro- 
found reverie, which was, by and by, interrupted by the en- 
trance of the girls, who had laid aside their wraps in an ad- 
joining room and were now ready to bid their parents “ good 
night” before retiring to rest upstairs. 

“Oh, papa!” cried the bounding Frossie, planting a 
robust kiss on the old man’s cheek, “we had such a delightful 
lecture; he told us all about molecules, and the mode of 
motion, and ever so many nice things. And how everybody 
did stare and stare at my new sealskin sacque.” 

“Oh, mamma!” said the affectionate Thalia, twining her 
arms around her mother in a fond embrace, ^ ‘ sister is mis- 
taken ; it was not her sealskin sacque but herself that attracted 
admiring glances. The frost-bitten beauties of the seal can 


20 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


not be compared to the warmth and wealth of Frossie’s 
charms.” 

You are quite right, Thalia,” ventured the far-away and 
dreamy Aggie. ‘‘Half the young men in town are in love 
with Frossie, and it’s no wonder. The young man who would 
fail to fall head over heels in love with her at first sight would 
indeed be a dull fellow. If I was a boy I ’d marry Frossie 
myself.” 

“Of course I’d have you,” chirrupped Frossie, “but you 
would have to ask papa and mamma about it.” 

“ Ah, there is, or will be, the rub,” said Nathaniel, rather 
seriously. “I will never be able to find suitable husbands 
for my girls ; that is, I will always think them too good for 
common mortals. One philosopher said : ‘ The voice should 
be written on the forehead, for according as a man’s character 
is he shows it in his eyes.’ He was correct, but alas, my 
daughters, how few characters are voiced truly and correctly 
to the ears of happy lovers. A man’s character is clearly 
defined after marriage, but before the knot is tied there is a 
studied effort to conceal the weak points and to bring out the 
virtues in bold relief. The good and ill of wedded bliss are 
wrapped up in the characters of husband and wife.” 

“Dear papa,” said Frossie, gaily, “ do not trouble yourself 
about us girls. When we are married, you will agree with us 
that our lovers are fine fellows. But why talk about such 
gloomy things. Let’s have a little music before going to bed,” 
and Frossie tripped airily to a piano, and would have filled 
the room with music, but her mother softly interposed : 

“Hast forgotten that Terpsichore is ill to-night? Thy 
music might disturb her.” 

“ Poor Terp,” said Frossie, resignedly seating herself 
again; “ I pity her when she suffers with that dreadful neu- 
ralgia,, but she is so cross that I sometimes almost hate her ; 
she makes fun of my music, too. Only yesterday I was in the 
parlor playing the piano and singing as well as I knew how. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


21 


when all at once the door flew open and Terp’s tousled head 
poked in. ^ Is that you, Frossie?’ said she. ‘Yes,’ said I. 
‘ What are you doing?’ said she. ‘ What am I doing?’ said 
I; ‘why, I am singing and playing on the piano.’ ‘Oh,’ 
said she, ‘ I thought it was papa taking snuff.’ ” 

“ And one day she came to my studio,” said Thalia, “just 
to find fault. She walked up to the canvas upon which was 
represented a toad sitting serenely under a mushroom. ‘ What 
is it?’ she said. ‘It’s a toad,’ said I; ‘be careful, or it will 
bite you.’ Next she went to my water-lily, which all the girls 
say is just splendid. ‘What is this?’ said she. I told her 
it was a water-lily. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it,’ said she. 
Then she went to the large canvas on which I spent so many 
long days in painting the angel you admire so, mamma, and, 
standing bolt upright before the picture, she said, ‘ And this : 
what is this?’ These words made me angry, and I said, 
‘Bless your old eyes, that’s an angel.’ After looking at the 
picture very carefully again, she held up her hands and said, 

‘ Is it possible? Why, Thalia, you should put a label on it.’ 
‘ No,’ said I, ‘ I’ll not put a label on my angels, but the next 
one I paint I ’ll fix it up with trousers and a moustache ; then, 
I’m sure, you will appreciate it.’ ” 

“Terp paid me her compliments a few days ago,” said 
Aggie, “and I assure you I have cause to remember her. 
She came to me while I was lying on a sofa in the parlor try~- 
ing to find a suitable word to rhyme with ‘ star.’ Seating her- 
self at my side she said, ‘ Are you composing a poem ?’ ‘Yes, 
Terp,’ said I, ‘that’s just what I am doing.’ ‘I thought so,’ 
said she, ‘judging from your personal appearance. Now, 
Aggie, I would advise you to quit trying to write, and will 
tell you a story which may bring you to a sense of your duty. 
Once upon a time ancient Egypt was overrun with poets, so 
much so that the crops were a failure for want of attention. 
One of the shepherd kings of that country began to cast 
about him for some plan to bring about a reform, and rid the 


22 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


commonwealth of the pests. By the advice of his counselors 
he offered a reward of ten dollars a perch for the longest poem 
anybody could write, and set apart a day for receiving the 
poets, which was to be a general convention of rhymsters. 
The day arrived and with it came before the king an innumer- 
able army of poets. Early in the morning the king went to 
the back door of his palace, and as far as the eye could reach 
were the mighty hosts of wild-eyed women and men, with 
great bundles of manuscript ; some were weary and had fallen 
asleep on the top of their bundles; some had their poems 
strapped to the backs of camels, and some were standing 
guard over their bundles with implements of war in their 
hands. Each one endeavored to make his bundle appear 
larger than that of his neighbor. The king went to the front 
door — and such a sight; for several miles in front poets were 
piled up on top of each other, two or three deep. In the 
great forest beyond the trees were laden with them, and on the 
great mountains afar he could see them to the snow line, and 
many of them were waving prodigious^bundles to attract his 
attention. Just then a slave entered and told him that the 
roof of the palace had given way on account of being over- 
strained by the weight of poets and their bundles. Another 
slave came and told him that the cellar and basement were 
overcrowded, and that the outside of the palace, to the fifth 
story, was lined with poets, who were clinging to lightning 
rods, window sills, and anything and everything they could 
grasp. Now the king waxed angry, and in his sore displeasure 
asked the slave what was the cause of the noise and babel of 
voices, that shook the foundations of the palace; and the 
slave told him that the poets were all reciting ‘rejected^ poems 
to each other ; and the king said, ^ go to ’ and bring the life- 
guard. The soldiers of the crown soon restored order among 
the Litei'ati^ and the king said, ‘let each one bring his poem, 
and lay it before me, without reading, or breaking the seal,^ 
and it was done as he said. A great heap was made of the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


23 


poems ; and the pile was so great that it reached to the clouds, 
and the circumference thereof was like that of a walled city. 
There were in the pile, seventeen thousand poems on ‘ Life ; ’ 
seventeen thousand on ^ Death/ ten thousand on ‘Spring/ 
ten thousand on ‘ Summer ; ^ ten thousand ‘Autumn Solilo- 
quies/ five thousand ‘Odes to Winter/ twenty thousand 
poems on ‘ September / twenty thousand on ‘ October; ’ thirty 
thousand on ‘Other Days.’ There were several thousand 
war poems of historical merit, which were carried by elephants 
and dumped as a foundation for the pile. The balance of the 
heap was made up of poems on various other subjects, such 
as ‘ Dawn ; ’ ‘ Sunset ; ’ ‘ The ring she used to wear ; ’ ‘ Only 
a bunch of hair;’ ‘Alone;’ ‘I think of only thee;’ ‘My 
heart, my heart is breaking.’ The majority of the poems were 
freighted with sighs, and heart-aches, and groans, and tears, 
and stars, and buds, and mellow moons, and garlands of 
flowers. So you must know they were very sweet. At a 
given signal the heap was set on fire, and the flames of genius 
smote the bright Egyptian skies before the eager-eyed poets 
were aware of the treachery of their king. Great lamentation 
filled the air, and there were sounds of distress, and a gnash- 
ing of teeth. For four days and nights the conflagration con- 
tinued; the air was burdened with sweet smells; the leaves 
of the trees in the great forest were covered with honey, that 
fell from the atmosphere, and the earth caught the nectar, 
that fell as rain, and formed into pools and running streams. 
The king now issued an edict, which said, ‘ Henceforth any 
man or woman, in my kingdom, who writes poetry, shall be 
placed in a dungeon, and be compelled to live apart from his 
fellows.’ To his great surprise, this pleased them, and they 
called him a great and gracious sovereign, for they said a 
dungeon was just the place for them, and that no one could 
write poetry unless he was lonesome and sad ; and the darker 
the dungeon, the better the poetry would be. Notwithstand- 
ing the king’s amazement, he was crafty, and being determined 


24 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


to establish prosperity in his kingdom once more, conceived 
a horrible plan to rid himself of the bards. ‘ I know of a 
tropical island,’ he said, ‘whose shores are washed by the 
crystalline waves of a summer sea. It is covered with beau- 
tiful mauze and mango trees, and lotus blooms are abundant. 
I will take you to that beautiful land, in consideration of your 
loyalty, and lofty genius. There you may dwell for a season, 
and your meat shall be broiled humming-birds and stewed 
nightingales.’ The poets were highly pleased, and all of them 
began to write stanzas in honor of the king. Many could 
write sixty stanzas an hour, without damage to their mental 
faculties. The king hastily lashed a number of large vessels 
together, and the poets entered them with exceeding great 
joy. They sailed into a deep sea, out of sight of the land, 
and the wicked sailors, by order of the king, bored great 
holes in the bottoms of the vessels, and made their escape in 
the only life-boats. The vessels sank, and all on board were 
drowned. The last poet seen was an angular female, who 
clung to the mast, and recited, as the cold waves closed about 
her, a poem she had just composed, called “The great Here- 
after.” After this the valley of the Nile become productive 
and peace and plenty filled the land.’ This was Terp’s story, 
and it is n’t true, is it, papa ? Oh, she is so hateful and disa- 
greeable.” 

“Daughters,” said Minerva, smiling in spite of herself, 
“thee must bear with thy sister and speak no ill of her. Pray 
as did the psalmist : ‘ Set a watch. Oh Lord, before my mouth, 
and keep the doors of my lips.’ If thou canst think of 
nothing good of her, then keep thy tongues from speaking 
evil. There is no life entirely blameless, and none altogether 
evil. Speak only of her good deeds, and leave her sins and 
weaknesses alone.” 

“It’s all the same to Terp whether you speak good or ill 
of her,” said Nathaniel. “But your mother is right; speak 
well of her, and remember she is a Driver. Hesiod said : 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 25 

^ The best treasure among men is a frugal tongue/ therefore, 
my daughters, be careful.’’ 

‘‘The hour is late,” observed Minerva, “ and my daugh- 
ters need rest and sleep, therefore it is time to say ‘ Good 
night’ Frossie, bind thy hair securely to-night, so that it will 
not trouble thee so much in the morning. Aggie, thy face 
looks white and pinched; lay aside thy corset for a few days, 
and see if the blood will not come to thy cheeks again. 
Thalia, thy hands and feet are cold, and thee must wear thy 
heaviest flannels and long woolen stockings to-morrow.” 

“Good night, papa,” cried Frossie, giving him first, and 
afterwards her mamma, each an emphatic kiss. 

“Good night, mamma,” cried Thalia, giving Minerva 
first and her papa next, each an emphatic kiss. 

“Good night,” said Aggie, kissing her parents warmly 
without addressing either. 

Such was the custom of this family on retiring, and there 
was another custom which developed right here. The girls 
passed into the hallway leading to their upstairs sleeping 
apartments; the door was closed for a moment, and then re- 
opened and Frossie’s bright head was thrust into the room 
again. 

“Good night, papa,” she said, throwing him a kiss with 
her hand. 

“Good night, my darling,” said the old man, returning 
the kiss. Then the door closed, but only for a moment, when 
the hazel-haired Thalia reappeared. 

“ Good night, mamma,” she cried, throwing a kiss, which 
was given back with a graceful wave of Minerva’s hand. 

And so the girls went to bed. 


26 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


CHAPTEE III. 

A SPINSTER OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 

Terpsichore Graydon’s serene certitude of mind and 
speech, together with a keen sense of irony, when in her nor- 
mal condition, were wonderful, and made her something of a 
terror to her immediate associates. She endeavored, like her 
father, to live a double life, but with different aims and results. 
At home she endeavored to make herself disagreeable, with 
colossal success; in society she endeavored to appear as an 
amiable and most exemplary young lady, with disastrous 
results. The numerosity of her ideas, her euphuistic ways, 
coupled with the great length and breadth of her conversa- 
tional ability, made her, on all occasions, an absorbing ele- 
ment of social life, and a target for criticism. In her religious 
views she was quite practical, and regarded immortality as a 
mathematical problem readily solved, but tiresome to contem- 
plate. It was a great mystery to her that people should weep 
when their souls were converted, and the plan of salvation 
was a divine scheme to worry weak-minded sinners about 
things for which they were not accountable nor able to change. 
There were, no doubt, many good and beautiful things in the 
world which she appreciated, but there was one good thing 
above all other good things which, like a will-o’-the-wisp, kept 
a distance in front, but always out of reach; pursue it as 
determinedly as she could, and still it would elude her grasp ; 
chase it as swiftly as she might, and it was not overtaken ; 
this delusive and illusive good thing was a husband. That 
she had failed in many, very many, instances to secure the 
object of her affections — if she had any affections, — did not 
abate her zeal and enthusiasm in the quest. In early years 
she had some preference as to what a husband should be ; 
what he should look like, and what his financial and moral 
standing should be; but of late years she had become less 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


27 


exacting. Her ideal husband was first rich, then poor, and 
finally it was not a matter of consequence; he was at first 
blue-eyed and light-haired, then black-eyed, with a like color 
of hair; he had small hands and small feet for a long time, 
but finally she settled on red hair and big feet, but all to no 
purpose. Her ideals being completely shattered, she cared 
not whether her future lord had red, brown, black, or light hair, 
or whether he was bald-headed or not ; the eyes were next of 
no account, and she admitted that one with a glass eye, wooden 
legs, and only one arm was better than none, her only require- 
ment being that he be of the masculine gender. Her acquain- 
tances were all aware of her weakness in this direction, and 
she was the subject of many a neighborhood scandal and ripe 
fruit for the gossips. Among other things, it was said that 
she consulted a dream-book each morning, with a view to 
obtaining a husband, and that she was a sure and anxious 
customer of the Gypsy fortune-tellers who happened to stroll 
by the town. Away back in the front part of her existence, 
when but seventeen, she procured, at great expense, from one 
of these shrivelled Sibyls a ‘‘Love potion,’’ or rather a pre- 
scription for one, which the Gypsy told her would work to 
perfection. It read as follows : 

“If you wish to procure a husband, prepare and administer the 
following, according to directions : Place a screen wire bird trap 
under a lilac bush, and, after baiting properly, cover it over with 
honeysuckles and lilies, leaving only a small aperture for entrance. 
This must be done when the moon is shining brightly, and in perfect 
silence. Then walk backwards three times around the trap and bush, 
repeating softly these lines : 

When the blooms are blowing 
On a summer day. 

And the hours are flowing 
Like a dream away ; 

When the south winds hover. 

Nestle by my side ; 

Oh, my happy lover 
Take me for a bride. 


28 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


If at high noon on the following day the trap contains exactly four- 
teen English sparrows, proceed at once to put them to death by some 
slow and painful method. It is absolutely necessary that the birds 
be tortured in order to secure the favor of the gods. No part of the 
bird should be used, in the preparation of this potion, except the 
liver. Cut out the livers carefully, and place them in a porcelain 
kettle together with three white rosebuds, two white lilies, four snow- 
drops, a tulip, a forget-me-not, a veronica blossom, and a gill of rose- 
water. Take this combination to some sequestered spot at night (the 
night must be very dark, if during a storm all the better), being care- 
ful to select the most lonely and abandoned place available — an unin- 
habited cave would be a proper place. Then the pot should be 
allowed to simmer over a sandal wood fire for two hours, and, when 
the bell in the tower of the Cathedral tolls the hour of midnight, the 
mixture should begin to boil. When it has boiled exactly twenty-two 
minutes and fourteen seconds, pour into a pint bottle, which fill up 
with elderberry wine. Cork tightly, place in a cool place, and it will 
keep an indefinite length of time. If the object of your affection be a 
young man twenty drops will be sufficient ; if an old man, give him 
a teaspoonful ; if an old bachelor with a bald spot on the top of his 
head, trap more sparrows, boil their livers in rose-water, and add as 
much as, in your judgment, will suit the case. Administer when the 
sign is in the lion.” 

Now, I do not here assert that Terpsichore prepared this 
potion, but I have it from good authority that she made the 
trap. I suppose that her inability to secure the requisite 
number of English sparrows damaged and ruined the enter- 
prise. At least, I am told that there were never more than 
five birds in the trap at any time, but, be it placed to her 
credit, she tortured all that came into her hands, according 
to prescription. Aside from the matrimonial instinct that was 
so overwhelmingly apparent, she had other traits of character 
which will be revealed, to some extent, in this narrative. 
Among other things she was a constitutional liar. Like many 
fluent conversationalists she preferred to use falsehood occa- 
sionally, in order to make herself conspicuous, and she was 
a dear lover of sensation. When she chose she could be as 
sarcastic as the claws of a turtle, or as cynical as a porcupine 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


29 


in full bloom. The minor traits of her character were, how- 
ever, overshadowed and almost obscured by her obvious and 
energetic endeavors to enter the holy bonds of wedlock. The 
main groove of her being — the channel of her existence, as 
it were — centered towards the altars of Hymen. Strange as 
it may seem she had never received a marriage proposal up 
to this time, although she had been involved in several scan- 
dalous entanglements of her own manufacture, and would 
have everybody believe that she had rejected a score of suit- 
ors. These facts made no difference to her, and as time went 
by the bolder and more aggressive became her maneuvers ; 
the mere' fact that she was growing old made her foolishly 
desperate to enter the bonds of wedlock. It flashed across 
her mind one day that the facilities for getting married were 
not equally shared by the sexes, therefore, something was 
wrong. This thought grew upon her and she resolved to 
seek redress in the lecture field. She prepared a lengthy 
address, which she called ‘‘Social Reform, or Shall we 
Equalize the Chances?” Want of leisure and space makes 
it impossible for me to give the reader all of this lecture, but 
I will recite a few brief extracts to show you the general 
drift of her mind and soul, follow me : 

“Ladies and gentlemen: Since Eve discovered that she was 
naked, and God made Adam her sovereign lord and ruler, woman has 
been the slave of man ; a willing slave, bound hand and foot, ever 
hugging the chains and refusing to be released. She enjoys her ser- 
vitude and dependence. Whether it be right for her to rejoice in her 
condition I shall not argue in this lecture. Man and woman were 
created equal, with a small difference as to ribs. The object of the 
first man was to secure the first woman, and the object of the first 
woman was to secure the first man, for, was not the sweet will of the 
woman stronger than the command of God ? And did not Adam turn 
his back upon God and the angels to please a woman ? There can 
be no genuine happiness to a woman in this world without a husband. 
The maidens of Israel deemed it a disgrace to die childless, and 
Rachel once cried out in great agony, ‘ Give me children, or I die. 
The torch of Hymen should guide the young men and maidens, and, 


30 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


also, the old men and old women, provided they are not married. It 
is a matter of no consequence what business you pursue, if you 
would make a success of it you must be married. Sarah laughed 
when the angel of the Lord told her she would bear a child. She 
laughed in derision, for she was ninety years of age, and was, proba- 
bly, a woman who did not believe everything she heard. But the 
angel was right, therefore, should anyone be discouraged on account 
of age ? I answer No. Rachel and tender-eyed Leah were the great 
fountain of all the forces of Israel, yet Jacob made himself a slave 
and toiled fourteen long years to secure them, which proves that 
much hard work is sometimes required before we can get the one 
just suited to our mind, but the result of such labor is remunerative. 

One of the most beautiful characters in the bible is that of faith- 
ful Ruth, who refused to leave the widowed Naomi, and endured 
poverty and hardships with heroic patience. Was this loving Moab- 
itess blind to the excellencies of matrimony ? Oh, no ! While I do 
not admire the spirit that caused her to lie down at the feet of Boaz 
in an out-building at night, and him intoxicated at the time, yet I can 
but admire her enthusiasm. Yes, my friends, enthusiasm is what is 
needed to secure a husband, and this enthusiasm must be coupled 
with a more liberal and independent view of our social relations. 
Will you please, for a moment, look at this matter in its true light 
and divest it of all sentiment ? Marriage is a business transaction, 
in which the best interests of two human beings are united. Is it of 
more importance to one than the other ? Certainly not. Is man by 
nature better fitted and worthier to enter the bonds of wedlock than 
woman ? Certainly not. Is earthly bliss of more consequence to 
one than to the other ? If not, why is it that the man is allowed to 
ask the plighted troth of the woman he loves, and the woman is not 
allowed the same privilege with the masculine gender ? Why is it 
that the man is granted permission to ask the woman to be his wife, 
and the woman must not ask the man to be her husband ? It is only 
a custom, and a weak sentiment that upholds it. A woman has the 
same interest at stake, therefore she has the same rights in the mat- 
ter. Many a lover is too faint-hearted to ask the necessary question. 
In such a case why should not the woman have the privilege to come 
to his rescue by making the proposition herself? It would save time 
and fuel (laughter, in her mind). Many a man who should become 
a husband is left out in the cold, because he will not speak. Many 
a woman is served likewise because she dare not speak. In conse- 
quence, the number of bachelors and spinsters is alarmingly on the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


31 


increase. Sisters, let us assert our independence ; let us show to 
the world that the matrimonial relatioruis one which both sexes may 
approach with equal propriety. Remember the good book says, 
‘Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.' 
So I say to you, come up and live in a higher atmosphere (great 
applause, in her mind). ******** 
Among the ancient Greeks and Jews marriage was considered so 
honorable and necessary that anyone who failed to secure a husband, 
or a wife, as the case might be, was branded as a criminal against 
society and against the nation. So such a one is to-day, for it is the 
plain duty of every man and woman to get married. Saint Paul 
clearly teaches us our duty in this respect, and we could not do bet- 
ter than to follow his advice. My hearers, I sometimes shudder to 
think of the dangers to which myself and all women are exposed. 
But I am horrified beyond my power to express, when I see how 
readily and willingly the young ladies of my acquaintance yield 
themselves to the masculine embrace. What is the result of this 
promiscuous, everlasting, never-ending courtship, where the man is 
allowed to trifle at will with the affections of the woman, allowing 
her hopes and desires to reach their height and then coldly withdraw- 
ing for some more attractive creature ? I tell you, it is productive 
of bad results. It fills society with libertines and bad women. Many 
a warm-hearted, impulsive girl becomes a faithless, godless woman, 
because her best and brightest hopes were blighted by the one who 
should have held her worthy of all respect and love. You remember 
the story of Leah’s daughter, the beautiful damsel Dinah, who was 
beguiled by the fascinating Hivite youth, and also, the bloody and 
terrible revenge taken by the sons of Jacob, who temporarily dis- 
abled the male subjects of Hamor and then destroyed them. Hor- 
rible as it was, I can but admire the manly words of Simeon and 
Levi, who, when reproved because of their folly and wickedness, 
after the massacre, simply said : ‘ Should he deal with our sister as 

with a harlot ?’ Now the Hivite youth wanted to marry Dinah, and 
she loved him very dearly, but the old folks objected, with the usual 
results. When young folks desire to enter the state of matrimony, 
it is best to allow them to do so. Intervention on the part of parents 
is sure to prove disastrous, for youth and age cannot agree in this 
matter. In youth we marry for sweet love’s sake ; when the years of 
responsibility arrive we are wiser and do not allow love to dictate. 
In youth we see the roses, the tinsel, the glamour of life ; in later 
years we know only its harsh realities. Youth is the June, age the 


32 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


December of life. (Great applause, and cries of ‘good’ — in her 
mind. ) Sensible men and women get married ; if it were not so 
what would become of our free institutions ? The tide of civiliza- 
tion would recede if this glorious institution was abolished. There 
is only one civilized place where men are ‘ neither married nor given 
in marriage,’ and the environments are not the same there as here. 
Therefore, connubial bliss is above all other considerations in this 
mundane sphere. Those who have testified in regard to its merits, 
speak well of it. It is like the personal experience given at church 
class-meetings — much the same all the year round. If a man has n’t 
sense enough to get married it is his own fault, and I am here to- 
night to say if a woman fails to get married it is her fault. (Symp- 
toms in the audience, in her mind.) Shall we equalize the chances ? 
That ’s the question for consideration. My dear sisters, if we do not 
it ’s our own fault. We have it in our power to break down this silly 
custom, of waiting for the men to propose. It is a preposterous sen- 
timent, and bars the way of one-half of the female portion of society. 
It is an obstruction that should be removed, and if we put our 
shoulders to the wheel and all push as one man victory will be ours. 
The day is coming — is almost here, when this question will be 
divested of all false modesty and woman will be free to act as she 
pleases. When that day arrives you will find her no less modest and 
womanly than in her present state, and my highest ambition is to be a 
recognized factor in this great social reform. My days shall be spent 
in earnest effort to equalize the chances.” ( Here a shower of bou- 
quets falls around her, amidst deafening applause — all in her mind.) 

Terp’s lecture was quite lengthy, but the above brief 
extracts will be sufficient to show the reader its general tenor. 
She actually labored under the impression that she was a 
pioneer advocate in a great social reform. If one’s imagi- 
nation was strong enough to make him believe that he had a 
boil on the back of his neck, he would suffer all the pangs 
and penalties of a boil, and, though it be not visible to any 
one, you could not convince him there was no boil there. 
This eccentric female was sure she had made a discovery in 
social ethics that would eventually revolutionize the regulation 
way of ‘‘popping the question.” But she had another and 
a far more selfish motive in thus offering herself as a sacrifice; 
she thought it would, at least equalize her own chances in 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


33 

procuring the long sought for boon — a man — one she could 
call her own. It is one thing to enter the lecture field, and 
quite another to get an audience. So Terp found it to be. 
The different organizations of the place were duly notified of 
her intentions, and she intimated to the ladies of the Baptist 
church that she was willing to give her lecture, under their 
auspices, for the benefit of the chattel mortgage fund of that 
institution. Much to her surprise she found the social ther- 
mometer down to zero, and her proposition was received with 
an icy refusal to accept. Next she tried the Methodists, but 
the ladies of that organization told her that the chances were 
already equalized, and that it would be a cold day when they 
needed any advice about match-making, or matrimony, in any 
of its various branches. The Presbyterians declined her prop- 
osition, and told her they were otherwise engaged. Other 
religious denominations and organizations were applied to in 
vain. Poor Terp ! must she abandon her dreams of reform, or 
appear on the rostrum without being called out by the people, 
as she wanted it to appear? At last, happy thought, she 
would make a ‘‘starring tour” through the country, visiting 
the small villages first, and then, if her success was satisfac- 
tory, and she had no doubt but that it would be, she would 
bill herself for larger towns and cities. By a strategic effort 
she secured the privilege of lecturing in the Unitarian Chapel 

in the very small town of B , about seventy-five miles 

from home. There was not, of course, a newspaper printed 

in B , and no hand bills were used, but the lecture was 

thoroughly advertised by the ladies sewing circle — a much 
better dispenser of news than would have been a newspaper. 
Here was fame edging up toward her, and what would she do 
with it when it was fairly in her possession? Would she be 
excessively vain and pompous when the people looked upon 
her as a great leader of a still greater reform ? These were 
questions which she considered af length. 


34 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


CHAPTEE IV. 

SHALL WE EQUALIZE THE CHANCES? 

Terp prepared a suit of clothing especially for the occa- 
sion of her first appearance on the rostrum at a great expense 
of time and money. It consisted of — Oh ! horror of hor- 
rors ! — a pair of broadcloth pantaloons, and nearly all the 
paraphernalia of a gentleman’s outfit. A loose cloth gown, 
or coat, the upper part of which was adjusted much like the 
‘‘button-up-in-front coats ” sometimes used by the clergy, fell 
gracefully about her till it reached to her knees and there 
stopped. A plain white collar and tie, a stiff hat, and soft 
kid shoes completed her make up. She did not, of course, 
appear on the street in this costume — it being her stage dress, 
or suit, to be used to give full force and effect to her words. 

I am sorry to say that her lecture was a dismal failure, 
or, rather, that she had no chance to deliver it on account of 
the absence of her audience. On the evening of her pro- 
posed lecture in B she arrived at the chapel exactly at 

seven o’ clock. The first bell was ringing, but not a soul was 
present, only the sexton in the vestibule with the bell-rope in 
his hands. Eight o’ clock came, but the house was empty as 
ever. Then the second bell rang, after which the sexton 
entered the auditorium, but no sooner did he notice the 
extraordinary costume of the women than he retreated pre- 
cipitately. Fifteen minutes afterwards he returned and seated 
himself on a bench by the stove. Still no one came. Half- 
past eight, and the sexton became nervous and fidgety. Even 
Terp was feeling chagrined at the absence of the audience, 
and mortified because the ladies did not come. At fifteen 
minutes of nine she abandoned all thought of her lecture, 
and, walking boldly down the aisle, seated herself by the side 
of the sexton, who was industriously engaged in squirting 
tobacco juice on the stove. He was a man past middle age, 
and otherwise harmless. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


35 


“ Are you a married man ? ’’ queried the spinster. 

“ I be, mum,” he said, with a scared look in his face, I 
be married and have fourteen kiddies, counting of the baby.” 

After a pause and some reflection, she said : 

“ Do you know any steady-going, industrious young man 
hereabouts who is anxious to enter the holy state of matri- 
mony ? ” 

‘^What’s the word, mum?” he said, with a stare, ‘‘I be 
not good in book lamin’.” 

She told him the accepted definition of the word matri- 
mony, and he continued : 

^‘Oh ! yes, mum, there be lots of young men in these dig- 
gin’s as wants tew git married. Yes, mum, there be fools 
here like in other places.” 

You do not mean to say,” cried Terp, “that a man or 
woman is a fool for getting married ? ” 

“That’s the size uv it, mum,” spluttered the sexton. “ If 
I ever git out uv the scrape you won’t ketch me a gittin’ mar- 
ried agin. ’ Take the advice of a man of experience; if ye 
ain’t married, mum, don’t ye do it; don’t git married onless 
ye hev ter, mum, and then do n’t if ye kin help it ; there ’s 
nothing in it but babies, mum, and sometimes twins at that.” 

Terp soon lost all interest in the sexton, and adjourned the 
audience of two. 

If you think she was completely disheartened you are 
mistaken. She was somewhat discouraged, but did not aban- 
don her efforts, although I am told she never delivered the 
lecture. 

Once at home again, she visited the sanctum of the most 
popular newspaper in the place, and gave an enterprising 

reporter a vivid description of her lecture at B . What 

she said to him was never known exactly, but the next issue 
of the paper contained the following : 

“ We are pleased to announce the great success of talented Miss 
Terpsichore Graydon, daughter of our distinguished fellow-townsman, 


36 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Nathaniel Chadsworth Graydon. It will be remembered that she 
recently entered the lecture field, and it has been a source of great 
displeasure among her many friends that she could not be prevailed 
upon to deliver her lecture in this place for the benefit of some of 
our charitable institutions, but she preferred to make her debut in 

the thriving village of B , choosing, with the timidity of genius, 

to make her first appearance in a small town. We learn from reliable 
persons that her success was not only brilliant, but almost phenom- 
enal. She arrived in B only a short time before the hour 

announced for the opening of her lecture. To her surprise, but not 
to the surprise of those acquainted with her, she was met at the depot 
by a vast concourse of people, such a crowd as the town had never 
held before. The lady was immediately escorted to a carriage by 
ex-Senator Linchpin, of Oskosh, and a grand procession started for 
the Unitarian Chapel, headed by the cornet band. The order of the 
procession was as follows : First came the brass band, followed by 
the carriage containing the lecturer and Senator Linchpin. This was 
followed by the Unitarian Sabbath School, with red sashes and 
torches ; followed by the ‘ Cold Water Army,’ ‘ Sons of Temperance ’ 
and ‘ Good Templars,’ with picture banners representing the road to 
ruin, and torches; followed by the M. E. Sabbath School, in white 
muslin, with torches ; followed by the Presbyterian Sabbath School, 
with satin sashes and silk stockings ; followed by the various secret 
orders in regalia, camping torches, and banners ; followed by citizens 
on foot, who were followed by a long line of citizens on horseback, 
in carriages, in buggies, and in other vehicles. It required two hours 
for the procession to pass a given point. At the Chapel only six hun- 
dred, of the five to eight thousand present, were able to get even 
standing room. The rest were obliged to retire to their several 
homes sorely disappointed. For two hours and thirty minutes the 
lady 'entertained the audience with her lecture, which is entitled : 
A Social Reform, or Shall we Equalize the Chances ? being repeat- 
edly interrupted by long continued bursts of applause. After the 
close of the lecture she was presented with a chain belt, made of 
silver, by the Y. M. C. A., and many other offerings were made by 
the delighted audience. Among other things was a beautifully frosted 
cake, presented by the Creme de la Cretne society. The proceeds were 
immense, but, with her usual magnanimity, she donated it all to the 
Unitarian Sabbath School. The audience, by a rising vote, tendered 
its thanks, and invited her to return at an early date. We trust that 
some of the societies of this place will secure the opportunity of 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


37 


hearing this eminent lady before she starts East, where she has been 
invited, by men and women of influence, to lecture in some of the 
principal towns and cities of that portion of the country.” 

This was the substance of the story told by Terp to the 
enterprising reporter. That individual was a young man with 
a vivid imagination and a fluctuating salary. His ability to 
enlarge, embellish and mystify made his services valuable, 
and he was an easy victim for Terp’s agile tongue. He 
swallowed the entire dose, and pocketed the fee which she 
gave him. Unfortunately for her the foreman of the com- 
posing room was a man who knew a thing or two about 
various matters, and the notice appeared in the paper under 
the head of ^‘New Advertisements,^^ much to her dismay. 
She waited patiently for an invitation to lecture from the peo- 
ple of her native place, but none came. She was fast becom- 
ing a martyr, in her mind, and hastened to ‘‘read up” 
on all the martyrs of the past, and arrived at the conclusion 
that the leaders of all great reforms must be martyrs of the 
cause they espouse. So it was in history ; so it would be to 
the end of time. In reading the lives of the martyrs it 
seemed to her that just as soon as a reformer had his ideas 
before the public he would lose his head, and was she any 
better than the mighty hosts of reformers whom the world 
had sent to untimely graves ? That the public manifested no 
desire to hear her was not the slightest evidence that her lec- 
ture was a weak one. On the contrary, she argued that the 
public never appreciates a good thing when they have it in 
easy reach, and, after all, there is a great deal of solid com- 
fort in posing as a martyr, and casting one’s self down for the 
sake of a great cause. 

One incident I must relate, which I am aware will be of 
little or no interest to the reader. I speak of it because it 
was a thing that opened Nathaniel Graydon’s eyes, and gave 
him a clearer glimpse of his elder daughter’s character, 
although he was sure he had been acquainted with her for 


38 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


many years. It happened in this way : Otto von Sweitzer- 
beck was a very respectable man, and played a brass horn in 
the Dutch band, which fact, alone, caused a coldness to spring 
up between himself and his neighbors. Notwithstanding this, 
he was, as I have said, a very respectable man. The founda- 
tion of his respectability was very strong, being a robust bank 
account on the desirable side of the ledger. His respecta- 
bility was on the increase, because his bank account was on 
the increase, and he paid his taxes promptly. He had one 
serious and glaring fault, that of becoming intoxicated, but 
you know ‘Hiches cover a multitude of sins.’^ Drunkenness 
covered with broadcloth, and drunkenness covered with rags, 
are two grades of the same iniquity. I do not mean to say 
that this man reeled and swaggered through the streets when 
so intoxicated, for he was one of the few men who can drink 
themselves stone blind, deaf, dumb, and idiotic, yet walk as 
straight and gracefully as a brigadier general on dress parade. 
It was rumored that his legs were hollow, and, being a large 
gentleman, his capacity for intoxicants was as great as a dis- 
tillery vat. 

At a late hour one cold night as Terp was tripping home 
from a society meeting, she encountered this individual, who 
stopped immediately in front of her tind extended his hand 
in token of his warmest regard. Then he stared at her in a 
semi-idiotic way, and seemed greatly embarrassed and unable 
to comprehend the situation. 

‘^My dear sir,’’ said Terp, in her most winning way, 
'^‘can I be of any assistance? You seem unwell.” 

‘‘Mine frent,” said Otto, with great effort; “Mine frent, 
I vas ead some wet dings, und loose mine house some blace 
arount.” 

“My dear sir,” chirruped Terp, who saw that the man 
was completely bewildered, ‘ ‘ your residence is three squares 
down the street, and you are going the wrong way. Take 
my arm, and I will be delighted to assist you homeward.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


39 


She did not understand the true condition of the mystified 
gentleman. She noticed that his breath was very repulsive, 
but thought it was the regulation Dutch odor, and was very 
glad to be of assistance to Otto von Sweitzerbeck, whom she 
regarded as a good subject for matrimony. 

Otto was on one of those cumulative and aggressive 
drunks which demand a broad climax, and when Terp found 
him he was wrestling with the climax. He was a bachelor, 
and was, of course, conscious of the charms and an easy 
victim to the blandishments of the female sex. He leaned 
upon the arm of his happy companion, and his arm finally 
encircled her waist in a passionate kind of way, squeezing 
her as fondly as a lover. 

‘‘My dear sir,” cried the eager spinster, “I know you to 
be a gentleman of too much good sense to trifle with the 
affections of any one, especially one who has always been 
your friend and admirer. Am I to understand that you are 
matrimonially inclined?” 

A Dutch grunt, laden with limberger and garlic, and a 
prolonged squeeze followed, and was considered an affirma- 
tive answer. 

“You love me well enough to make me your lawfully 
wedded wife ?” she said, with a scriptural intonation of voice. 

“ Yaw ! ” said the dazed Dutchman, not at all understand- 
ing the meaning of her words, but squeezing her rapturously. 
The squeezing and lover-like demonstrations became general, 
on both sides, and Terp whispered burning words of love 
into the big ear of her intended. The night was cold, and 
having arrived at Otto’s residence she rang the bell violently 
and left him rather abruptly. 

The world was hardly wide enough for Terp during the 
remainder of that night. Oh, bliss ! multiplied innumerably ! 
Wasn’t she engaged to be married? and, best of all, hadn’t 
she been squeezed — actually squeezed, by a man — a real, 
live man, with hair all over his face? Wouldn’t the ladies 


40 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


of the different churches fawn upon her now ? and would n’t 
they get snubbed ? Revenge is sweet, and they all deserved 
a thorough snubbing. She would be richer than any of them, 
and her husband a great musician — she was fond of music 
when it was made by a man. Life would be one continued 
round of pleasure, and the honeymoon would never set. So 
she drifted through all the thoroughfares of prospective bliss 
until early dawn. She expected her beloved Otto to visit her 
during the morning, and make -the preliminary arrangements 
for the wedding. She dressed with unusual care, b^ng care- 
ful to select the kind of clothing which she thought would 
please him best. She waited all morning for him, but he did 
not come. Perhaps he was sick, poor fellow, and could not 
come. She would find out that very afternoon, for she knew 
he must be suffering for her sympathy. At two o’clock that 
p. M. she was very restless, and at half-past two was in her 
father’s private office, dressed for a trip to the home of her 
proposed husband. Her father knew at a glance that some- 
thing unusual was disturbing the mind of his eldest daughter, 
and gave audience at once. 

‘‘Father,” she said, serenely, “I called to inform you of 
my approaching marriage with Mr. Otto von Sweitzerbeck.” 

The old man started violently, as if the news was a great 
shock, but said nothing. 

“Yes,” she continued, “I have concluded to enter the 
sacred domain of wedlock, and have made my choice of a 
husband from among the many, with great caution and due 
deliberation. For two years past Otto has been my devoted 
admirer, but it was only last night that an agreement was 
reached and an engagement entered into. He begged me 
to bring you to his residence this afternoon, that we may talk 
the matter over and fix a day for the nuptials. He would 
call on you, but the poor dear is not well to-day. So, father, 
will you please adjust your clothing properly, and come 
with me ?” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


41 


The old man did as requested, and the two were soon on 
their way to the residence of Sweitzerbeck. 

Otto was ‘‘at home,’’ and his head had ached all day at 
a terrific rate from the effects of last night’s dissipation. When 
Terp and Nathaniel arrived he had a wet cloth around his 
head and was passably sober. He welcomed the old gentle- 
man cordially, but much to his surprise Terp threw her arms 
around him, and cried out rapturously : 

“My dear Otto, I am so glad to see you again after a 
parting which seemed to be eternity itself.” 

“Mine Got in Himmels ! ” cried the horrified Teuton, 
breaking from her embrace and rushing around the room like 
a crazy man. 

Nathaniel seated himself by a bust of Pallas, and awaited 
developments. 

“Darling Otto,” pleaded the spinster, giving chase, “you 
surely forget yourself; you are not well or you would not 
thus forsake the one you clung to so tenderly last night.” 

The Dutchman brought up behind a card table, and Terp 
halted about the center of the room in amazement. Some- 
thing that would not fully materialize glimmered through von 
Sweitzerbeck’s mind, and he addressed her excitedly as 
follows : 

“ Oxguse me, uf you blease. Shoost speag right away oud 
and oxblain doze eegstraortinary greedings mit me. Oxblain ! 
oxblain ! uf you blease.” 

“Sir! your conduct, not mine, needs explanation,” she 
cried, majestically. “I simply claim my privilege as your 
affianced bride, and you go into a violent passion and fly from 
my embrace as you would fly from the embrace of a cinna- 
mon bear, and howl ‘ oxblain ! oxblain 1 ’ until the foundations 
of the house rattle. Now, sir, I will ask you to explain to 
my father, who, please note, carries a heavy hickory cane.” 

Nathaniel was strangely passive, and Otto was not afraid 
of canes anyway, for he said : 


42 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘‘Mine Got in Himmels, Meester Grayton, your dander 
vas off mit her het. I vas nopody’s fool, unt I vas got mar- 
reet to some leedle Dietch gal nexd spring, imd she vears mit 
her vinger all arount a vat-you-gall-et ring.’’ 

“So you are engaged to another woman?” she cried 
hotly. “Father, why do you not get up and cane him for 
thus trifling with me ? ” 

But the old man said naught and cared naught. 

“ Villain ! ” she continued, “ you shall yet pay for insult- 
ing me in this manner. Father, T have told you how this 
man insulted me. Last night I met him on the street in a 
half-frozen condition; I took the viper to my bosom and 
warmed him to life. He was quite sick, and I assisted him 
to his residence. He appeared deeply grateful, professed to 
love me, asked me to become his wife, and actually sq — sq — 
squeezed me ; hugged me in the open street, under the broad 
glare of the street lamps. Shall he go unpunished, or shall 
he receive his just deserts? My reputation is at stake; my 
affections have been trampled upon by his big Dutch feet.” 

But the old man did not punish anyone. 

“ Mine Got ! ” said the excited Dutchman, whose sluggish 
brain had just grasped the situation, “Meester Crayton, I 
dells you all aboud um. Last nide I vas oud mit der boys 
und got vull mit wet dings. Ven I vas come home somepody 
dake me, put I knows nodings ’til dis day, ven I wakes ub 
mit mine het on top uf my shoulters turnt ubside town, ant 
all sblit out mit aches. I squeeze somedings, but I dinks it 
vas a lampboast; eef it vas de lady, I opes the madam 
oxguse me.” 

And still Nathaniel did not knock him down. 

“Oh ! you were intoxicated ! that’s it, is it?” volleyed the 
spinster; “you mean, contemptible smearcase masticator ! you 
beetle-browed garlic vat ! you flat-headed, beer-drinking, lim- 
berger exterminator ! Oh, to think that I ever dreamed of 
uniting my fortunes with a man whose only business in life is 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 43 

to assimilate hops and toot on a brass horn. Congratulate 
me, father, upon my timely escape.’- 

But the old gentleman did not congratulate anyone. 

^‘1 go,” cried Terp, shaking her finger at the Dutchman 
as defiantly as Cataline; “I go, but I shall not return. I 
wish you much joy with your Deedle Dietch gal.’ Adieu!” 

Terp and her father were soon homeward bound, but the 
old gentleman did not evince any outward emotion, nor bid 
von Sweitzerbeck farewell. 

‘•Oh, father,” cried the antiquated crank, “I have made 
such a narrow escape. It makes me shudder to think how 
nearly I was to the gulf of wedlock, and to think that I 
should ever consent to mate with that lop-eared Dutchman. 
Man is a base ^deceiver, and heartless beyond expression ; 
but, father, why do you remain so quiet; why do you not 
speak to me ?” 

Nathaniel Graydon was most eloquently silent, and did 
not make answer to any of her ceaseless chatter, which con- 
tinued until they reached home and separated. 

Nathaniel Graydon’s silence was enforced. He had some- 
thing to say, emphatically, but he deemed it best to wait. 
He did not believe in using profane language on trivial oc- 
casions, but he was convinced that there are a great many 
things that come into a man’s life that cannot be straightened 
out without a free use of profane words. This, in his judg- 
ment, was a case requiring profanity, and he wanted to be 
alone for a short time. His daughter’s character was before 
him in a new light, at least a stranger light. He had gained 
a deeper insight, and was troubled by the knowledge ob- 
tained. 

For consolation, he sought “The Book of the House 
of Graydon.” It was “his Bible,” as his daughters often 
laughingly remarked. He was quite sure he could find in it 
a precedent for any trait of character that might develop in 
his children. He searched long and earnestly along the line 


44 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


of Terp’s ancestors, on the Driver side of the house, until 
he found the following ; 

“ Samantha Jane Driver, eldest daughter of Obediah and Jerusha 
Ann Driver, was born in Guilford county. North Carolina. Her 
father was foreman in Beard’s hatter shop, and was an industrious 
man. Samantha early developed a matrimonial instinct, and was 
bad after the men. At the age of eighteen she was struck by light- 
ning, at Dobson’s cross-roads, while drinking water from a pool. 
After this, she became cranky and reckless, and her career was check- 
ered. She was married seven times within four years, and finally 
eloped with a strolling clay-biter, and was never afterwards heard 
from by her family.” 

This then, to his mind, accounted for Terp’s irregulari- 
ties. The same stroke of lightning had reached through 
several decades, casting its strength along the line, and finally 
reaching Terpsichore. The old man could almost see the 
aligator swamps and smoky hills of far-off North Carolina by 
the glare of the bolt that struck Terp; and he almost wished 
that some reckless dirt-eater from the South, or any other 
place, would come in and claim her, and that she might van- 
ish as did Samantha Jane, never to return. He turned the 
leaves of the book until he arrived at page 900, desiring to 
add something to her record. He used a lead pencil vigor- 
ously for some time and wrote a lengthy addition; then 
closed the book with military decision, and placed it in his 
book case. For some time he walked excitedly up and down 
the room ; then he took the book down again, and with a 
rubber eraser, erased all he had written ; then he placed the 
book again in its place in the case ; then he resumed his walk 
around the room for several moments with a soldierly tread ; 
then he took the book down again, but did not reopen it 
for some time ; there was a struggle going on and he deemed 
it his duty to make an entry for future reference. To satisfy 
his own conscience and at the same time give no pain to 
others, he turned to what might be called the fly leaf of this 
remarkable book, and wrote, with his plain society flourish, 
these words on the margin : 

“There is a fool in the family.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


45 


CHAPTEE V. 

AMONG THE ROSES. 

You may imagine that the mansion of the Graydons was 
situated within the borders of a populous city ; if so, you are 
mistaken. 

L was not, nor is it at the present time, a city, 

although it had, and has, a bonded indebtedness, and in 
many ways has, for a quarter of a century past, assumed city 
airs. It was not, nor is it, a small village, notwithstanding 
some of its inhabitants walk in the middle of the road, to 
and from their places of business, ignoring the sidewalks 
altogether. 

I never knew the population of L , but this I do 

know : It had an opera house, seven small churches, five 
saloons, three dry goods stores, thirteen grocery stores, three 
newspaper^, a hero of three wars, a prima donna, who was 
‘^born to blush unseen, and waste her sweetness on the desert 
air,’’ a few of the leading literary lights of the west, a states- 
man who was good enough for the white house, a tax-title 
shark, a court house, a school professor, who was one of the 
most prominent educators of the state, two banks, a half 
dozen suppressed society and church scandals, and several 

that were not suppressed. Knowing this much of L , I 

do not hesitate in saying that the population of the place was, 
probably, thirty or thirty-five hundred souls. What is true of 
one western town is generally true of another. 

The Graydon Place, as it was called, was at the west end 
of a long street, in the suburbs ; or, rather, looking at it from 
town, it seemed to stand squarely in the center of the street. 
On approach, however, you could readily discern that the 
proprietor had not made the mistake of building his house in 
the public highway, but that the road forked at a respectable 
distance from the house, leaving the premises in very beauti- 


46 ’ THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

ful shape. The house was roomy enough, but quite plain 
outside. Nathaniel said, while the house was building, ‘‘I 
will make it substantial, and spend my money on the inside 
of it,’’ and he did so, for there was not a more elegantly fin- 
ished house, in the interior, in all that country. The prem- 
ises had been platted to suit Nathaniel’s fancy, long ago, and 
his daughters regarded it a part of their religious duty to care 
for the flowers, plants, shrubs, and grass plots, and keep them 
always clean and attractive. There were, perhaps, too many 
rose bushes embroidering the walks and drive- ways; too 
many Irish junipers; too many balsam firs and cedars ; too 
many honeysuckle and clematis plants; entirely too much 
cast iron and marble sculpture; too many miniature and 
artificial fountains; but considered in its entirety, it was a 
very beautiful and wholesome place. On the south was a 
large orchard of apples, pears, and Morello cherries; also, 
adjoining and belonging to the estate was a large corn field, 
the fences of which were lined with elder bushes, which 
were never to be destroyed, for the girls had said that an 
elder bush was worth a half-acre of corn, on account of 
the sweet-smelling blooms ; for the same reason a few forlorn 
and ragged locust trees were allowed to exist in an obscure 
corner of the place. 

The crowning achievement in this Oriental bit of earth 
was what these happy damsels called ‘‘The Wigwam.” I 
never knew why it was so named, for it had a striking resem- 
blance to something not a wigwam. In fact, there was a 
painful dissimilarity between this pleasant retreat and my 
idea of a wigwam. The difference between it and a wig- 
wam is, that a wigwam is a wigwam, and this was some- 
thing else. It was made by a circle of white maple trees, 
which had matted their branches together in a way that 
baffled the sunbeams and formed a dense shade within the 
limits of the circle. Around the rim of this charmed spot 
was a dense growth of flowers, shrubs, and plants, reaching 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


47 


almost to the branches of the maples, and making a most 
delightful enclosure. On the interior was a circular row of 
seats, and four goddesses placed at equal distances apart; in 
the center was a large fountain, which was of great height, 
and its waters seemed always falling from somewhere up 
among the branches of the maples ; a circular fish pond was 
at its base, filled with black bass, and many floating and 
creeping things. A floor of marble tiling added much to the 
appearance of this sylvan retreat, and its interior could 
scarcely have been more attractive and lovely on a summer 
day. The one thing that marred its loveliness, in the eyes 
and minds of these maidens, was the marble goddesses — or, 
rather, the personal appearance of these bits of stone. They 
had been hewn out by some amateur sculptor, whose idea of 
sculptured beauty was physical strength. For instance : one, 
the goddess Diana, stood up entirely nude; her legs and 
arms were larger than her body, and she looked more like a 
Swedish emigrant than a deity. In time the deformed statues 
became repulsive to the gaze of the noble-minded girls, and 
they covered the base of each, and in fact the entire surface 
of each, with climbing vines and flowering plants. I admire 
the spirit that caused them to hide the vulgar objects, for 
there is nothing so hideous to a sensitive nature as the nude 
in art. I have seen young men and ladies stand admiringly 
before a naked female, in marble or oil, who would feel 
insulted if an obscene photograph were offered them for 
inspection. 

In the Good Book we learn that our God was the first 
sculptor : that He made His images of clay, and breathed 
into their nostrils the breath of life. Adam was the first 
admirer of the nude in art, and Eve, with the instinct of true 
womanhood, would not appear naked before her husband 
and her God. In the shades of Eden she made an apron of 
fig-leaves — thus administering the first rebuke to those enrap- 
tured sensualists who see nothing so beautiful in art as bare 


48 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


legs and voluptuous bosoms, and seek to elevate the soul by 
stimulating the animal passions. A leg is a leg, and a bare 
bosom is a bare bosom, whether in marble, or in oil, or in 
the flesh. 

I wish you to note and give due weight to a few small 
things noticeable in the character and personal appearance of 
these three Sybarites. Their clothing was elegant and costly, 
yet always selected with good taste, and with a view to pleas- 
ing the generous-hearted, but sensible, Minerva. Therefore, 
there was nothing gaudy or ‘‘loud’’ in the way of adornment, 
and the very fact that they had never worn any kind of a 
dress, except the high-neck and long-sleeve kinds, was a cir- 
cumstance in a chain of circumstantial evidence, showing that 
they were graciously modest, regardless of the demands of 
fashion, and the embodiment of refinement and Christian cul- 
ture. In thus speaking of the girls, I mean the Three Graces 
of this happy home, not including Terpsichore. The Gray- 
don girls, barring Terp, were generous and kind to all respect- 
able and worthy acquaintances, and to every one they met, 
whether rich or poor. The rich admired them and courted 
their favor, but all essential things being equal, the smiles of 
a rich man or woman were of no more value to them than 
the good will and warm friendship of a poverty-stricken man 
or woman. They reached out more helping hands, scattered 
more deeds of kindness, went on more errands of mercy, than 
did all the combined number of maidens of their acquaint- 
ance. They knew by intuition that they had immortal souls 
that required the strength that comes only from exercise and 
discipline. Their hearts had been trained in the ways of 
virtue ; their minds were attuned to the notes of that invisible 
harp which great-souled men and women hear when they 
close their eyes upon the wickedness and clamor of the world, 
and dream of doing good. Being light-hearted, they did not 
view life with jaundiced eyes, but their good cheer was limi- 
ted to the legitimate. They knew how to enjoy life, but 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


49 


were perfect ladies under all circumstances — just the same 
at home, or at church, or at the opera, or at the railroad 
depot. Their great attachment and love for one another were 
plainly visible, and never were the strength and value of sis- 
terly affection more beautifully exemplified than in the lives- 
of these three maidens. You will probably surmise that they 
had lovers, but I have a surprise in store for you — they were 
engaged, actually engaged, each and every one of them — I 
mean the three girls, barring Terp, of course. 

The successful suitors were worthy young men of the 
world — the business world, and their characters conformed, 
so far as canvassed, to ‘^mamma’s” splendid ideas of mor- 
ality, and to papa’s fastidious views of manliness. 

They had been engaged about two weeks, and this chap- 
ter finds them, rather late at night, walking in the flower 
garden and through the lawns. It was about the middle of 
June, I think. The air, though laden with the perfume of 
sweet-smelling flowers, was somewhat sultry, but hardly 
oppressive enough to crowd departed spirits out of their last 
resting places, and send them roaming through the earth in 
search of fresh air. Notwithstanding this fact, there was a 
ghost in the garden among the plants and flowers ; an angu- 
lar spook in white, with a big palm leaf fan in its hand. 
Some persons do not believe in ghosts, but here was a specta- 
cle that would have convinced the most skeptical. To be 
sure it did not exactly float through the air, for the tread of 
its feet was plainly audible ; but then its beetle-crushers may 
have materialized so strongly that it gave them weight enough 
to make a noise. It was a female ghost, too, for it wore 
crinoline, at least, a very, very large tilter. Evidently it 
expected something or somebody, for it seated itself upon a 
rustic seat, just outsde the wigwam, at the vine-covered base 
of the shameless Diana. Now and then it would raise its 
Roman visage and peer in among the shadows of the trees 
and shrubbery, and again lapse into an attitude of ghostly 


50 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


indifference. If its anticipations were verified or not I can 
not say, but sure it is that the sound of footsteps soon fell 
upon the ears of the spectre — it had ears, and very large 
ones at that — and Rudolph Germain and his affianced Fros- 
sie sauntered down the walk, entered the wigwam, and seated 
themselves on a small bench, just large enough for two, at 
the base of Diana, so near the specter that it could have 
touched them with its parasol if it had had a parasol and had 
been so inclined. A large oleander and some shrubbery sep- 
arated the spook from the lovers, hiding it effectually, but it 
could hear all they had to say. 

Rudolph Germain was, in the main, a noble fellow, and 
almost fanatically zealous in serving his friends. He was, 
also, sensitive to a degree that often caused him to impute 
wrong motives to those who were not his enemies. If he 
loved his friends overmuch, it is equally true that he hated 
his enemies with the same degree of enthusiasm. If he was 
unswerving in his ideas of business honor and personal integ- 
rity, it is equally true that he possessed a meager endowment 
of hard conwi 07 i sense. If he was the very essence of virtue 
and industry among men, it is equally true that in the pres- 
ence of women he was bashful and thin-skinned. His in- 
ability to acquire rhinosorosity of cuticle often caused him to 
appear at a great disadvantage, and he was often gloomy 
and would brood for days over a fancied wrong or insult. In 
fact, he was a man who, in the heat of passion, would be 
sorely tempted to commit a terrible crime, and a moment 
after be almost consumed by feelings of remorse and regret. 
That dark and unwholesome passions existed in his nature 
cannot be denied. I outline, thus briefly, the weak side of 
this man’s character, in order that you may know what caused 
him to do as he did. I wish I could reveal to you in its true 
color, the royal side of his character, but I must not. I say 
of him the best thing that can be said of any man : who 
knew him best loved him best. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


51 


In personal appearance he was compactly built, and some- 
thing of an athlete to the mind of the close observer. 
Straight as an arrow, with eyes that would flash and sparkle 
with unusual brilliancy when their owner was animated Avith 
some strong desire or sudden passion — eyes that could 
radiate the warmth of the summer’s sun or freeze your blood 
at pleasure. His complexion was fair, hair and moustache 
emphatically dark. 

He was saying: ^‘You say I am jealous-hearted, Frossie, 
and I admit the truth of what you say. How could it be 
otherwise under the existing state of affairs? I love you, 
therefore I am jealous. Jealousy is the best evidence of love. 
If I did not love you, I would see no reason to complain.” 

‘‘ Be jealous, if you will be, Rudolph, but remember that 
your rival is a man of straw : a pasteboard skeleton that 
comes, always, as an invited guest at your feast.” 

Is Paul Satalia a pasteboard skeleton, my love?” 

‘‘Presumably not, although he looks as if the wind would 
some time blow him away. How foolish you are, Rudolph, 
to give him a single thought. You know that he has been 
and is my preceptor in music, and a right faithful and compe- 
tent teacher he has been. Am I to blame if he loves me ? ” 

“ Frossie, I cannot think ill of you, but this terrible doubt 
as to your attitude toward your instructor is what hurts me. 
The other day I called and was informed that you were in the 
parlor receiving a lesson in music. I called again in two 
hours, and you were still learning music. Oh ! Frossie, does 
it require so long to learn a single lesson ? ” 

“ I learned ^wo lessons on that occasion — one in music, 
and one in love ; that is, I learned that my teacher loved me.” 

“ Will you tell me what he said?” rather crustily. 

“Certainly. You see, he has been drilling me in the 
beautiful ‘Wedding March,’ which I am to play at the Rair- 
don-Smith wedding next Wednesday, and* has learned me to 
play it to perfection. Well, on this occasion, he was particu- 


52 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


larly painstaking, and I am sure was proud of my skillful 
performance, for he said so. By and by he was through. I 
was seated on the piano-stool, idly drumming the keys, and 
assure you, Rudolph, that I had no previous knowledge of his 
affections, although I had noticed that he always spoke to me 
in a tender and graceful way. He was standing by my side, 
very close, and all of a sudden bent over me and said very 
sweetly, ‘ My little woman, you are very beautiful.’ ” 

‘‘Then, Frossie, I suppose you excused yourself, and left 
the room at once?” • 

“ Indeed, I did not.” 

“ Proceed ! ” 

“I just waited for further developments, and they came 
speedily. He clasped my hand very passionately with one 
hand, and stroked my hair, oh, so softly, with the other.” 

“ Then you gave him to understand his place, and told 
him to release you and leave the room ? ” 

“Of course, I did nothing of the kind, Rudolph.” 

“Well,” hotly, “what did you do?” 

“What could I do but wait and see what his intentions 
were ? Before I could prevent it, he kissed me and said 
very softly, in his sweet musical tones, ‘ My darling, my dar- 
ling ! I love you.” 

“ Oh, the scoundrel ! Did you ring the bell and call for 
help?” 

“I did not.” 

“Well,” despairingly, “what did you do?” 

“I arose from the stool, walked across the room, and 
seated myself upon the sofa.” 

“And,” suspiciously, “what did he do?” 

“ Oh, he came and sat by my side.” 

“On the same sofa?” fiercely. 

“Yes, on the same sofa.” 

“ How close was he?’^ 

“Well,” evasively, “you know the sofa is quite small.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


53 


‘^What did he do then?’' almost angrily. 

He put his arm around my waist, and squeezed a little.” 

And you permitted him without a word of objection?” 

What could I do? He seemed to enjoy it so much, 
poor fellow, and you was n’t there, you know, and I was so 
lonesome.” 

‘‘Frossie,” looking at her with his arms folded, and she 
could almost feel the blood-freezing light in his eyes, “do 
you think I will allow Paul Satalia to come between you and 
my love ? Am I a school boy, to be trifled with in this way ? 
No ! you are mine, and I cannot live without you. He shall 
not interfere. There is no sacrifice I would not make for 
you. I have laid at your feet my fortune, my reputation, my 
very soul, and you have a mortgage on my future. If it was 
necessary I would lay my life down for your sake. With you 
I could sail peacefully and happily over the tempestuous tide 
of human affairs; without your love to sustain me, my heart 
would break. No man who truly loves can give up the 
woman of his choice without a struggle, for the life of one is 
the life of the other. Do you think I would allow him to 
steal from me all the brightness of this world ? If he robs 
me of your love he must die — I swear it! If he takes my 
treasure away from me, I will hunt him down ; he could not 
escape me, and when I found him I would kill him — squeeze 
every drop of blood from his vile carcass and throw him to 
the dogs. You are mine ! mine for time and eternity, and no 
power between the stars and hell can take you from me ! ” 

Frossie had never seen her lover in one of his terrible 
moods, and was thoroughly frightened. Tears came to her 
eyes, and in a moment her arms were twined about him in 
love’s fond embrace. 

“Forgive me, Rudolph, I did not think you cared so 
much. I magnified the story just to tease you, indeed I did. 
I told him of our engagement, and gave him no room for hope. 
I could never learn to love him, and yet I pity him, for he has 


54 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


always been kind to me and so enthusiastically devoted to my 
musical education. He will visit me no more as a teacher, 
and will be received as other friends aro received. Many a 
young man has sought my hand and heart. Can I help being 
loved? Am I to blame because I am handsome? Is the 
earth an unfit dwelling place for man because the sun kisses 
it and warms it to life and energy ? Are the stars less bril- 
liant because the poets all sing about them ? Are the flowers 
less fragrant and beautiful because all noble-minded men and 
women admire them ? And is a woman less womanly and 
worthy because she attracts the attention of many men, and 
has many suitors for whom she cares nothing at all ? Indeed, 
Rudolph, I can not help being handsome. If it would please 
you better I would shave my head and wear goggles, indeed 
I would. Darling, you must not doubt my love again, prom- 
ise me that, for I love you, and you alone of all men. I am 
yours, soul and body, forever and forever yours. My life ! 
my love ! into your keeping I place my dreams of earthly 
bliss ; my hopes of future happiness ! my all. My love is 
undivded, too deep to be fathomed by human understanding ; 
too strong to yield to the blandishments of those who might 
seek to destroy it. Do you trust me now ? Will you doubt 
me again ? 

Did you ever see a beautiful landscape after a shower, in 
the warm spring weather, when the sun would out from 
under a cloud and set the birds to singing, the flowers to 
blooming, and the grass to springing ? Such was Germain’s 
condition. His face fairly beamed in the moonlight, and his 
heart was throbbing with his great love. The great fountain 
foamed and splashed, soft winds whispered above their heads, 
and the air was burdened with the odor of roses. Rudolph 
Germain and Frossie Graydon were very happy indeed. 

The disgusted specter on the bench outside placed her 
fingers to her ears as an immodest, innumerable, and irrational 
number of passionate kisses sounded through the branches 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


55 


of the oleander and the dense foliage that screened it from 
view. The couple wandered down the path on the opposite 
side and left it alone. 


CHAPTEE VI. 

FAMILIAR SPIRITS. 

The spook was not long alone, for scarcely had the sound of 
footsteps died away until other steps were audible, and Mr. 
Tiberius O’Leeds and^ Miss Thalia Graydon came down a 
walk from an opposite direction, entered the wigwam, and 
seated themselves on the bench just vacated. 

O’ Leeds was not an Irishman, as his name would indicate, 
at least he was not so considered, though he possessed much 
true Hibernian wit, and I suspect that some of his ancestors 
had been hung for rebellion in Ireland. He looked more 
like a Scotchman, having sandy hair, a florid complexion, 
blue-gray eyes, and blonde side whiskers and eyebrows; at 
least, the color of his beard and eyebrows was not so decided 
as that of his hair. He was light-hearted, and sometimes a 
trifle reckless in conversation. . 

My sweet Thalia,” (the ears of the specter fanned the 
atmosphere in expectation,) “ can you imagine how Napoleon 
felt when he escaped from Elba, and regained his crown and 
his glory ? 

I think he must have felt very happy, Tiberius.” 

Can you imagine the feelings of Mordecai when he was 
rescued from the clutches of Haman, placed on the king’s 
best horse, all bespangled with diamonds, a crown on his 
head, and his mortal enemy humbled before the people and 
hung on the gallows that had been erected for himself?” 

suppose he was glad, but it’s awful wicked to hang 
anybody.” 


56 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘‘Thalia, Napoleon and Mordecai were not more thankful 
for deliverance than I am/’ 

“Tiberius O’Leeds, what do you mean?” 

“I mean that I am no longer in danger of living and 
dying an old bachelor, for I am to be married to the sweetest 
little woman on this terrestrial ball.” 

And there was a sudden concussion and blending of two 
celestial bodies; after which Tiberius resumed : 

“Yes, sweetheart, I was fast becoming an ancient mariner 
on the social tide, soured and disgusted at things I once 
enjoyed. I fancied that men were donkeys, and that women 
were sage-hens, browsing around on the sun-burnt meadows 
of their own existence. My life was joyless until you arose 
like a day-star above the horizon of my existence.” 

And immediately there was another blending of heavenly 
bodies. 

“ Sweet love, I am glad you found my heart, for an old 
bachelor can not be a patriot or a good citizen. His blood 
does not circulate correctly, and his mind does not run in 
proper grooves. It is the duty of each man to choose wisely 
and well from among the many eager damsels that beset his 
pathway ; and it is the duty of each woman to take her place 
alongside the man that destiny brings, willing to perform her 
part on the stage of action, and share the mutual reward of 
wedded bliss with becoming dignity; and, my star-eyed 
Thalia, the very angels sent you to bring my soul to the sur- 
face again.” 

Followed by a series of seraphic blendings and smothered 
smacks. 

“Darling Tiberius, we shall be so happy together, for our 
souls are congenial. I think of nothing, dream of nothing 
but you. Only yesterday I was painting a landscape, think- 
ing of you all the time. The work was progressing nicely, 
when my thoughts of you made me forget myself, and I 
painted your ear right on a hillside where I intended to make 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


57 


a farm house. The other day I painted a water-lily, an'd 
afterwards found I had made a pair of bluish eyes right above 
it, and I remembered that your eyes were peering at me from 
the canvas all the time. Such foolish things my great love 
causes me to do. Oh, Tiberius, if I should loose you now 
it would either kill me outright or cause me to retire from 
society altogether, and then' I should become an ugly old 
maid — perhaps as old and ugly as Terp, but I never could 
be as hateful.’’ 

The specter outside straightened bolt upright and looked 
savage. 

‘ ‘ My precious darling, all day long I am as happy as a 
bird. You are not an old bachelor, only a trifle older than 
myself, and I love, love, love you all the time.” 

Terrific concussions and prolonged blendings. The wind 
softly sighed and sobbed above them; the stars smiled lov- 
ingly down; waters trickled from among the branches, splash- 
ing and foaming, and the flowers breathed their sweetest 
incense. Tiberius O’Leeds and Thalia Graydon were very 
happy indeed. As for the specter, it was thoroughly dis- 
gusted, and looked as if it had recently swallowed a dose of 
lobelia. Arising abruptly, it floated out among and through 
the shrubbery, but evidently its mission as eavesdropper was 
not ended, for within twenty minutes thereafter it was again 
seated on the rustic bench ready to listen to what it heard 
from Mr. Zebulon Weiler and Miss Aglaia Graydon, who had 
arrived immediately after the departure of Tiberius and 
Thalia, and were seated on the trysting- bench, entirely 
oblivious to surroundings. 

Zebulon was a heavy, sonorous kind of a man, with a 
voice that was somewhere between the dulcet tones of a 
saxaphone and the bellow of a pennyroyal bull. In appear- 
ance he was rather Dutchy, very dark grey eyes, dark hair, 
and chin whiskers of no certain color. Aggie loved him 
because she thought him good, and handled him as though he 


58 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


was a wad of molasses candy. When a fellow is, apparently, 
too good to do anything bad, bland as a stuck pig, and as 
practical as a Congressional record, some sweet-faced girl is 
sure to fall in love with him because her mamma has taught 
her to admire the good and the true. Zebulon was a lump 
of inert matter, whose placid, oyster-like bearing made him 
appear well in the eyes of the devoted damsel. 

The specter listened intently, and by and by he began to 
rumble : 

Aggie, I feel assured that our married life will be pleas- 
ant and profitable. I shall live with your welfare constantly 
in view, and you shall receive every attention your comfort 
and convenience may require. I am very glad that our tem- 
peraments are compatible, for compatibility, in my opinion, 
is of great value in married life. Conjugal bliss is dependent 
upon the adaptability of the contracting persons — that is, it 
depends upon their ability to adapt themselves to the untried 
and unknown circumstances that arise in married life. If one 
gets married everything changes. I myself was fast becom- 
ing a disciple of Epicurus — ’’ 

‘‘Who was Epicurus, sweet love?’’ 

“He was a man who believed in eating, sleeping, and 
having a good time, teaching that bodily ease should be the 
highest aim of man’s life. He would drink sometimes like a 
fish, and gave himself credit for being a philosopher and 
philanthropist. Of course, eating and sleeping are first 
among the great blessings of this world, but I would n’t 
drink ; it costs too much.” 

After a long pause : “ My dear, is there anyone irw or near 
the wigwam ? ” 

Tremblingly anxious and hopeful: “No, my love, there 
is no one near.” 

After a painful suspense : “ Are you quite sure ? ” 

Nervously but determined: “Yes, dear, dear Zebulon, 
I am sure.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 59 

Another pause of five minutes, standard time : Aggie, 
my dear, will you examine the premises ? 

Aggie springs up, passes hurriedly around the interior of 
the wigwam, looking under benches, shrubs, flowers, bushes, 
and so forth, and returns. 

Eagerly: ‘‘Darling! my own, my precious one, there is 
no one near.’’ 

Another elaborate pause, and he rumbles: “Aggie, my 
dear 1 ” 

Preparing for action : “ My ownest own.” 

With calm decision, as if regardless of consequences : “Let 
us osculate.” 

And they osculated. 

A lengthy flash of silence ensues, after which : 

“ Aggie, my dear.” 

“Yes, my love.” 

“ My mind is troubled.” 

“ My poor darling 1 ” 

“Yes, I am sorely troubled about a matter that concerns 
our future happiness.” 

“Then, why have you not sooner spoken? You know 
that I am to share your burdens now, love.” 

“ I was afraid you would be offended.” 

“Offended by you? Oh, Zebulon, how can you say it!” 

“If I wound your feelings, will you forgive me, Aggie?” 

“Yes, my darling, but do not longer keep me in sus- 
pense.” 

“Remember, my dear, that all the happiness or misery 
of our wedded life hinges upon your answer to a single ques- 
tion. It is better to understand ourselves before we unite 
our destinies.” 

“My own, my precious Zebulon, give me the question 
and I will give you the answer.” 

“It is this : do you purpose writing poetry after our mar- 
riage?” 


6o 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


# 


‘^Zebulon Weiler, what nonsense; you dear, good fellow. 
If writing poetry in any way interferes with the full enjoy- 
ment of connubial bliss, then of course I should lay down 
my pen and think no more of rhymes. I do not flatter my- 
self that I am more than a literary rattle-box, and I could 
discard literary pursuits so easily and quietly that the world 
would never know of it nor suffer any loss therefrom. 

Aggie, you have lifted a heavy load from my mind, and 
I breathe in a new atmosphere. I was afraid you were so 
strongly attached to your literary work that you could not 
give it up.’^ 

^^No, Zebulon; although I am a member of the Interna- 
tional Writers’ Mutual Aid Association, I have no desire to 
get higher. I never enjoyed the meetings of the association. 
The many good productions of the society were covered up 
by the mutual-admiration-penny-a-liners, who have neither 
culture nor common sense. There are so many cats, spar- 
rows, and parrots in the literary world that I shall make no 
special effort to enter it. Dear love, trust me, and I will be 
to you a good and true wife.” 

After a slight pause, Aggie said: ‘‘Excuse me,” and 
made a thorough search around the wigwam, and coming 
back to Zebulon, said: “Dear Zebulon, I have made a thor- 
ough search, and there is positively no one near the wigwam.” 

After a long silence, “Aggie, my dear?” 

With great emotion : “ My own love.” 

With the calm resignation of a man who is trying to do 
his whole duty in this vile world : “ Let us osculate.” 

And they osculated. 

The specter outside could endure it no longer, and spring- 
ing up, uttered an exclamation of deep disgust, audible to the 
lovers, and then floated into the shadows and fled. The 
lovers clasped each other in abject terror. 

“ It was — ” cried he. 

“The cat ! ” said she. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 6 1 

The south winds sighed softly in the branches above their 
heads, the great moon smiled, the stars twinkled ; the foun- 
tain splashed, and the flowers still breathed their incense to 
the gentle breezes. Zebulon Weiler and Aggie Gray don were 
very happy indeed. 

Disembodied spirits are said to be nomadic in disposition, 
and if one spook has a right to float around among the shrub- 
bery, at the dead hour of night, other spooks have the same 
right. Therefore, it was not strange that the female ghost 
should meet a masculine ghost that night, as it was ambling 
along near the family mansion. Spook number two was a 
very thin specimen of ghost, but every inch of a departed 
being. He was very slim, and dressed in a swallow-tail coat 
and white vest. His long hair was as black as the wings of 
the raven, curling slightly at the ends, smooth face, black, 
restless eyes, and mean, sinister mouth, that had about it, at 
times, a hyena-like smile, reminding one intuitively of the 
poefls words : A man may smile and smile and be a villain 
still. Yet barring the jackal grin, he was rather of prepos- 
sessing appearance. It was obvious that these supernatural 
visitants were familar spirits.’’ It is possible they had been 
friends on this mundane sphere before entering the Cimmerian 
shades of the unknown. It may be true, as the preacher 
says, when confronted with an argument on the subject of 
^‘Spiritualism”: “If spirits do return, they are only evil 
spirits, and, therefore, not fit for the companionship of decent 
people,” for each of these spooks was fanning and usiilg a 
’kerchief vigorously, which might indicate that they were 
from a climate that was entirely too tropical, or that they 
were sensitive to heat and were perspiring from force of habit. 
To be sure, the atmosphere was extremely warm and oppres- 
sive, but, of course, ghosts are not affected by the temperature 
of the atmosphere of this terraqueous ball. Be it as it may, 
it was, as I have said, evident that they were acquainted, for 
the female goblin, after adjusting her tilter, said, rather coolly : 


62 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘‘ You here ? ’’ 

‘‘Yes, I am here. I could not stay away to-night. I 
must see her, or reason will be dethroned. The knowledge 
that Frossie loves another causes my brain to reel.’’ 

“Your brain should not be so easily overbalanced.” 

“ But I tell you I love her — nay, I worship her! ” 

“ Which shows you to be a man of excellent taste. It is 
nothing strange that you love her, for it is impossible for any 
one to know her and not love her ; but that fact does not give 
you the right to prowl around an honest man’s house, in the 
middle of the night, without being invited to do so.” 

“ But I dare to assume the right to do so.” 

“ Burglars do the same.” 

“ I am honorable, and have no desire to offend; but my 
head is throbbing and my heart is breaking under this burden 
of unrequited love — for she does not love me.” 

“ If she does not love you, why do you come as a thief 
in the night ? It is hardly worth your while. Frossie is a 
house plant, and should be in doors after nightfall.” 

“ Oh ! if I could only see her and talk with her, I might 
win her love. I could woo a cat from the gates of Paradise.” 

“ I do not question your ability and influence among the 
felines, and I have heard that a crawling reptile is sometimes 
able to charm a sweet-voiced bird from the light of the sun 
and joy of the world into the jaws of death. As a beguiler, 
your ability is conceded ; as a man of sense and honor you 
are a flat failure.” 

“ Accept my profound thanks for your candor, but you 
cannot change my purpose. She is mine. I have sworn it.” 

“ My sanguine night-hawk, doubtful things are sometimes 
very uncertain. Frossie would never learn to love you. You 
say she is yours, and why do you say it ? ” 

“ She is mine because I love her.” 

“Ah, indeed; you had better transfer your love to a 
woman who would appreciate it. I have no doubt your wife 
would be glad to embrace you and call you pet names ! ” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 63 

The face of the male specter became livid with rage, and 
he felt in his pocket as if in search of a weapon. 

‘^Beware!” cried the female spook. ‘‘Attack me, and 
I would wring your neck as I would wring the neck of a 
pullet. If you have a dagger, be careful ; you might fall 
down upon it and hurt yourself. If you have a pistol, it 
might explode. Children should not be allowed to carry 
deadly weapons.’’ 

“ You are a she devil ! ” the male spook almost shrieked. 

“ There ! there ! do not get excited; to-day I found a let- 
ter on the lawn where you had been. It was one you had 
dropped accidentally. I learned from it that you have a wife 
and three small children in Nashville, Tennessee ; that they 
are in indigent circumstances. Do you deny it?” 

“ I do not, but if you only knew how that woman treated 
me ; how she ruined my peace of mind ; destroyed every 
earthly hope, and made life a dismal, howling waste, you 
would not blame me for deserting her.” 

“Why did you not avail yourself of the opportunity to 
climb the golden stairway and take your place among the 
angels ? ” 

“ I was working for fame, and the children were trouble- 
some and expensive.” 

“ Fame is the bauble for which ambition seeks. All who 
toil for it complain at the expense. It is n’t worth what it 
costs, especially if one has a family.” 

“ It was necessary for my wife to engage in manual labor.” 

“The wives of most men who seek after fame with no 
show of success are compelled to support their families. She 
had no right to marry a man with a bee in his bonnet.” 

“ Oh, how happy I would be if I could only call Frossie 
the sweet name, wife. What joy it would be.” 

“Poor fellow, I begin to sympathize with you. If you 
must have a wife, and were legally divorced, I do not know 
what / might be induced to do.” 


64 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


The male spook looked anxiously around for some means 
of escape, but rallied and said : 

‘‘You do not understand me; my life and happiness are 
in her keeping ; I can not live without her. She shall be 
mine ! ” 

“ My dear friend, postpone the funeral as long as possible.’’ 

“ What do you mean ? Why do you jest ? ” 

“ I do not jest. Not an hour ago I heard Rudolph Ger- 
main tell Frossie he could not live without her, and when two 
men can not live without the same girl, it follows that there 
will be a funeral.” 

“She shall never marry Rudolph Germain. I have sworn 
it, and deep down in my soul I have registered a vow that 
she shall be my wife. If I fail to win her love, I shudder to 
think of the consequences.” 

“Better not meddle with Rudolph Germain, or this love 
affair may reach a point where the second best man will get 
a cracked cranium and a few broken ribs.” 

“I do not seek to harm him, but if I do not succeed in 
winning her, then I shall take my own life. Why should n’t 
I ? Better death than life without her. One dagger stroke — 
a sharp pain — only for a moment, and then eternal sleep — 
sure narcotic for the numbing pain of a desolate life.” 

“Why is it,” said the female goblin, “that a score of 
men will clamor for the same woman, when there are so many 
other women going to waste?” 

“ It is useless to talk of other women to me. There is 
only one woman in the world. I have watched over her — 
dreamed of her by night, and worshipped her by day. I 
would have no thought but to make her happy were she mine, 
and Oh ! may the gods help me to woo her and gain her love, 
my own, my peerless Frossie.” And he was weeping. 

“It’s no use to cry over spilled milk; your case is hope- 
less. You do not deserve her love, and Rudolph Germain 
has a prior claim. Now take my advice, and return to the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


65 


woman you have so basely deceived and wronged. Let your 
children lead you back to duty and into the paths of honor. 

‘‘What are the paths of honor but deserted highways, 
whereon who treads must walk alone ? They are but thor- 
oughfares of pain, and the world gives a man no credit for the 
pangs he suffers in doing his duty as an honest man, while the 
veriest rogue may aspire and attain a place high up in the affec- 
tions of the people. It is only necessary for a man to wear good 
clothes and be of good address to pass as a gentleman in the 
most aristocratic circles.^’ 

“ For instance, a dough-faced libertine, black-leg, and light- 
weight villain could array himself in a swallow-tail coat, white 
vest, tight-fitting pantaloons, patent leather boots, and manilla 
hat, swoop down upon the fold and bear away some sweet-faced 
girl. Nay, your logic is not sound. Thieves are opposed 
to laws prohibiting larceny ; libertines are opposed to virtue, 
and all men are opposed to what interferes with their ideas of 
personal liberty and enjoyment. Enter the straight path; you 
have no right to judge other men by your own moral status. 

“You have my secret, and I suppose I will be exposed 
and disgraced to-morrow in the eyes of the world, or at least 
in the eyes of this small bit of the earth.” 

“ I do not wish to harm you. I have larger fish to fry. 
Go your way. I have no fears about Frossie. She can take 
care of herself; but remember that I know your true charac- 
ter, and if she could see you as you are, she would spurn 
you as she would an eel, and shrink from your touch as she 
would from the touch of a serpent ; but — ” 

A something came whizzing through and over the shrubs, 
striking the male spook full in the breast. With a half- 
smothered oath he fell sprawling over the back of a cast-iron 
leopard, which crouched at the base of a marble Psyche, by 
the side of which he was standing. 

The female specter dematerialized instantly. The swal- 
low-tail specter vanished as he came. Euphrosyne, Thalia, 


66 


•THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


O’Leeds, and Germain had returned to the house and were 
enjoying themselves hilariously, but Zebulon and Aggie tar- 
ried in the wigwam for some time after the vanishing of the 
eavesdropping spook. This is what happened : On the 
previous day Frossie had purchased a small specimen of tur- 
tle, from a small boy, who had captured it in a stream close 
by, thinking it would be a valuable acquisition to the fish- 
pond, at the base of the fountain, in the wigwam. She 
placed it in the waters of the pond among the finny creatures 
therein. The turtle did not appear to appreciate prosperity, 
for he crawled out of the pond continually, and was a great 
source of trouble to the gentle Frossie. This evening he had 
made his escape, and settled himself serenely under the tryst- 
ing-bench. I am inclined to think that it was a peaceably 
disposed animal, or would have been had Weiler not tres- 
passed upon its rights. What right has any man to thrust 
his boot-heel scornfully against the nose-hole of a turtle’s 
shell, and keep up an idiotic thumping and tramping against 
the shell-work tenement of an innocent, inoffensive riiud- 
blossom, as did Mr. Zebulon Weiler ? I answer, none at all. 
This turtle would not endure Mr. Weiler’s familiarity, and 
snapped at* the offensive heel, catching a mouthful of genuine, 
all-wool cassimere. Zebulon felt the shock, but it came dur- 
ing a season of osculatory refreshments, and he soon forgot 
all about it. By and by it was time to leave the wigwam, and 
then he was painfully aware that he was dragging a part of 
the wigwam after him. He moved very slowly and talked 
entertainingly lest his affianced should discover his predica- 
ment. He was not sure what he was dragging ; it seemed to 
weigh a ton, and the great, soft, mushy fellow was too bash- 
ful to allow his lady to relieve him. He was a careful and 
prudent man, and to be snapped in the leg by some animal 
whose characteristics were unknown to him, and whose in- 
tentions were very uncertain, made him nervous. He took 
to the grass, in order to deaden the sound made in dragging 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


67 


the beast, and perspired immoderately. They kept on walk- 
ing and talking, and the beast clung all the tighter. He 
talked of the weather until the weather was exhausted, but 
the beast had evidently no intention of loosening its hold. 
He talked of the constellations, and told her how to calcu- 
late an eclipse of the sun; talked of the moon and stars, 
until Aggie was astonished at his knowledge of astronomy — 
and still the brute held fast. He talked of their approaching 
marriage in a way that should have caused the turtle to drop 
off, but it did not. All this time they had been winding in 
and out among the shrubbery, he being careful to keep under 
the shadows, and to keep his arm around her in such a man- 
ner that she would not be able to see the turtle. 

Finally they were resting under the shadow of a magnifi- 
cent white maple ; great drops of perspiration stood on his 
brow, for he knew the truth would probably soon become 
apparent. Fortune favored him, however, for Aggie, discov- 
ering that she had left a valuable fan within the wigwam, 
excused herself abruptly and ran back to get it. Now was 
the time for action, and not being able to pry the thing loose, 
he concluded to kick it from him, and, being a powerful man, 
he gave a powerful impetus to the beast. It sailed majestic- 
ally through the branches of maples, firs and junipers, and 
struck something, with a dull thud, away over in the dark dis- 
tance. It was the swallow-tailed specter. 


CHAPTEE VIL 

THE DEPARTURE. 

Aunt Mehitable Stebbins, relict of the late Jared Stebbins, 
who gave up the ghost in a frantic effort to ‘‘corner’’ bread 
stuff, in the year of our Lord 18 — , was considered a mem- 
ber of the Graydon family, she being Minerva’s only sister. 


68 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


The soul of the departed Stebbins, if he had a soul, had 
never been troubled about the welfare of society, nor con- 
cerned about the misfortunes of his neighbors. ‘‘ Money will 
purchase everything necessary to a man’s happiness. Nature 
doles out just so much misery and happiness to the human 
race, and each man receives his pro rata share of it, accord- 
ing to his mental and physical make up. The more money 
the less misery, Mrs. Stebbins, and the less we spend the 
more we shall accumulate.” Thus reasoned the man of 
whom we speak. He died, and I am heartily glad of it, for 
it is mete and proper that Providence should interfere in 
behalf of the people when such men are financiering the 
wealth of whole neighborhoods into their own coffers. Place 
a sponge in a basin full of water, in a short time the water is 
all gone. Place one of these able financiers in a neighbor- 
hood of honest, industrious fellow citizens, and in a short 
time you notice that the local money market is greatly 
depressed, and that the currency is contracted. The able 
financier has the money — has sucked it into his clutches in 
much the same way that a sponge takes water from a basin ; 
but here the parallel stops, for, you may squeeze all the water 
from the sponge backdnto the basin, but you may squeeze the 
able financier until your nervous system is exhausted, and the 
currency is still contracted. If the lamented Stebbins enjoyed 
any of the bliss of this world, it was by absorbtion, for it is 
certain that he never bothered himself about things he could 
not monopolize, and which had no market value. He was a 
very practical man, almost too practical to die, but he did 
die — he really couldn’t spare the time to draw his last 
breath, but he did just the ^ame. I speak of this with a 
view of setting before the reader the good side of his charac- 
ter, and I solemnly assert that his death was the only gener- 
ous act of his life — the only good thing he ever did for his 
kind. If he went to heaven, I’ll wager any small specific sum 
that his first act was an effort to swindle Saint Peter out of the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


69 


gold knobs on the front door of the celestial city. His life 
was a dismal failure, his death a necessary and enjoyable 
calamity, on the occasion of which society drew a long breath 
of relief and forgot all about him. Devil take him. 

Aunt Mehitable had not been a congenial spirit to Steb- 
bins, but he cared little for that. She did what seemed her 
allotted duty, with no murmur or complaint. Her tongue, 
like her shadow, was loose at both ends, and a wonderful 
supply of soft and precious advice slipped away from her. 
In deeds of charity she was as indefatigable as a pendulum, 
and her open-heartedness was demonstrated in a thousand 
ways. She was afflicted with a chronic cough, and often 
declared that she had had the hasty consumption for the last 
thirty years. She was a childless mother, or, rather, a 
motherly old soul without children ; and with her loving dis- 
position, demanding a surfeit of gentle affection, it is not 
strange that^she became warmly attached to her nieces. She 
became a frequent visitor at the Graydon place at the demise 
of Stebbins, aforesaid, and her coming was always hailed 
with delight. Dear old Aunt Mehitable, though she had been 
crucified on a matrimonial cross, yet she came down from that 
cross purified and almost glorified in the eyes of her affection- 
ate relatives. They loved her, not merely because she was 
wealthy, although her money did not lessen their esteem, nor 
in any way interfere with a full and free expression of their 

pleasure in her presence. The beautiful city of was the 

place selected by her in which to spend her declining days. 
She located there because of its superior church privileges, 
and because it was only a pleasant ways down the railroad to 
the Graydons. So -we find her engaged in what should be 
the occupation of all wealthy old ladies, to-wit : Doing the 
will of her heavenly Father, and distributing her surplus to 
the necessities of the worthy poor and friendless. 

The girls having decided to make a triple wedding, named 
September as a proper month for the completion of Love’s 

- 6 - 


70 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


happy triangle. The question of their future residence was, 
to be sure, a matter of great moment. Nathaniel insisted 
that all of them should live with him ; he was old, he said, 
and needed the sustaining presence of his daughters. Minerva 
merely quoted a few passages of Scripture, and referred the 
matter to the Lord. Terpsichore had not been consulted, but 
had some ideas about the matter, and one evening, when the 
'entire family, including the bridegrooms, were chatting to- 
gether in the drawing-room, Tiberius O’Leeds asked Terp to 
express her opinion about the propriety of all living together. 
With cool and cutting sarcasm she replied : 

All live together, to be sure ; what a brilliant proposition. 
Three full-orbed honeymoons blazing down upon us contin- 
ually. Could we endure it? Would not the saccharine 
qualities of the atmosphere be too oppressive for healthy 
respiration ? Is true love like condensed milk, warranted to 
keep in any climate ? If so, does it follow that who is not 
fond of milk shall be compelled to drink it ? In plain Eng- 
lish, are not the sweets of the honeymoon too obvious and 
tangible to be appreciated by any save the contracting par- 
ties ? Seriously, I think this nectar-coated period of married 
life should be passed quietly, and the participants should be 
screened from public gaze, not for their own good, but for 
the good of the public. One of the imperative laws of mar- 
ried life is that the husband must finally acknowledge that 
there are a great many women in the world, and that he only 
possesses one^ and not all of them ; likewise the wife is com- 
pelled to admit that her husband is only one man. It might 
not interfere with your pleasure to congregate, permanently, 
in this house, for it is large and pleasant ; but how about my- 
self, my father, and Mrs. Graydon, who are not at all respon- 
sible for the present state of affairs? And then,” noticing 
the dismay of her three sisters, ‘‘just think of the children; 
only a few years and the house will be full of them, from 
cellar to garret. Children up stairs, children in the base- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


7 


ment, children in the parlors, sliding down the banisters, 
playing blind man’s buff in the drawing-room, and ” — but 
Aggie was crying, Frossie was angry, and Thalia was prepar. 
ing to leave the room. The gentlemen were horrified, except 
O’Leeds, who laughed outright. They would listen no far- 
ther to Terp’s discourse, and strolled out for a moonlight 
ramble. 

Notwithstanding the vaporings of the terrible spinster, the 
wedding preparations began with commendable promptness 
and energy. It being the first time these girls had ever been 
to the point of getting married, there was an excusable re- 
dundancy of enthusiasm. It was decided without debate 
that the wedding garments should be purchased and manufac- 
tured at the city of , which of necessity would cause 

them to make an immediate visit to dear old Aunt Mehita- 
ble’s. This fashion, of purchasing clothing and household 
goods away from home ; this cosmopolitan instinct that makes 
a man a citizen of the world and causes him to turn his back 
upon his native village, when he has money to spend, is not 
wholesome, nor is it in accordance with the American idea 
of citizenship. Yet it is practiced all over this country, not 
only in towns and villages, but also in cities. The blue- 
bloods of Cincinnati purchase bridal garments at Chicago; 
Chicago buys in New York City; New York City buys in 
London ; London buys in Paris, and so forth. Had the girls 
concluded to purchase their bridal garments at home and con- 
sented to have them made by the family seamstress, in coun- 
. try style, I do not think this book would have been written, 
and the reader could have invested his money in English 
classics. I do not blame them much for not wanting the ser- 
vices of the family seamstress, for she was like the shoemaker 
our ancestors tell us about, who made boots and shoes for 
everybody over the same last. Her work was not satisfac- 
tory, and the girls never allowed her to tamper with their fine 
dresses. She was at the time engaged to be married to a 


72 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


traveling bunion-puller. It was the event of her life, and 
her poor, weak brain was never capable of entertaining two 
ideas at the same time without some kind of a calamity. 
The idea of her manufacturing some other body^s wedding 
dress with her hands, and her own wedding dress with 
her mushy brains, at one and the same time, was a thing 
which the girls did not dream of entrusting to her. There 
were a few excellent mantau-makers in town, but they were 
not considered. Custom shut the gown-makers and the 
merchants of their town from view when expensive articles 
of clothing were to be purchased. The third day of July 
was the date fixed for their visit to the city, and it being 
immediately at hand, preparations were made accordingly. 
The most elaborate part of said preparations was the coaxing 
of papa to give them a much larger sum of money for their 
purchases than he thought necessary, but they succeeded be- 
yond their expectations, and very early after breakfast on the 
morning of the third of July, donned their traveling suits 
and appeared before their parents ready for departure. 

Nathaniel was seated at a small table with his ‘‘Book of 
the House of Graydon” before him, and he read as follows: 

“Barbara Allen, of the line of Eldridge, lived with her three 
beautiful daughters, Eudora, Deliah, and Irene, near Rabbit Ridge, 
Kentucky, in the early part of the present century. These daughters 
were fair to look upon and attracted the attention of three young 
frontiersmen, who became ardent admirers. By and by, on a cold 
winter’s day, they were married at the residence of Esquire Mabley, 
and after the ceremony, started to return to Barbara Allen’s humble 
dwelling, a distance of five miles. The good woman had not been 
able to attend the wedding, on account of having sprained her ankle 
in driving a drove of elm-peelers into the barn-yard. As she awaited 
the return of her children, and was listening for their footsteps and 
merry laughter, her ears caught a far different sound. She heard the 
most heart-rending cries from the depths of the wood, and presently 
the bridal party came in sight, and the men' were bearing a burden 
which proved to be the inanimate form of Irene, the one she loved 
the best. The story was soon told : As the newly married were 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


73 


coming through the wood, led by Irene and her husband, they came 
full upon three large bears, in coming around the roots of a fallen 
tree. Both Irene and her husband wore deer-skin moccasins, and 
their approach was almost noiseless ^he startled bears, thinking 
they were attacked, sprung up, and one dealt Irene a fatal blow with 
his paw. Barbara Allen never recovered from the shock, and died 
in one year’s time with a broken heart.” 

^‘This, my daughters, reads like a precedent.” 

‘‘Oh, not much of a one, papa,” cried Frossie; “where’s 
the woods ?” 

“And the ’squire and the widow’s cottage?” said Thalia. 

“And the elm-peelers, and the bears?” added Aggie. 

“Here’s your bears,” . cried Terp, admitting Germain, 
Weiler, and O’Leeds. “A polar, a grizzly, and a cinna- 
mon.” 

After the usual greetings, Weiler announced that it was 
“about train time.” 

“My daughters,” said Minerva, just as they were pre- 
paring to leave, “and my sons, to be, may the Spirit of the 
Lord be with thee and keep thee in perfect peace. May 
your married life be as pleasant as mine has been. Learn 
to bear and forbear with one another’s weaknesses, for you 
are all frail creatures. As Paul said : ‘ See then that ye walk 
circumspectly, submitting yourselves one to another in the 
fear of God.’ Yes, my daughters, obey thy husbands in 
every right and proper thing. But never learn to do wrong 
gracefully and submissively, as do so many wives; retain 
your womanhood under all circumstances and at any price. 
You remember that once a great king made a magnificent 
feast and festival to the people of his kingdom, and revealed 
the riches and splendor of his realm to his nobles and princes. 
In the splendid court of the king’s garden, with its hangings 
of white and blue and green curtains, fastened with cords of 
fine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble ; 
where couches of silver and gold were spread, for the repose 
of the company, upon pavements of red, and blue, and 


74 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


white, and black marble, and rarest wines were served in 
golden goblets, the king and his people made merry. ' By 
and by, when the king was inflamed with wine, he sent for 
the queen, requesting her presence immediately. But mark 
you, the noble-minded Vashti did not appear, nor choose to 
reveal her charms to the gaze of drunken men, and although 
she loved her lord and king, she would rather be a beggar 
than lower her standard of virtuous propriety. She was de- 
throned and cast adrift, and no doubt the princes and nobles 
of Persia and Media treated her most shamefully, but she 
retained her womanhood pure and untainted, which is of 
more value than the fleeting treasures of this world. Honor 
your husbands, my daughters, but honor first thy God and 
Master. If thy husband prove to be as wicked as Haman, 
it does not follow that thou .shouldst be as cruel as Zeresh. 
Does it, Mr. Weiler?” 

Zebulon, who was calculating the cost of Aggie’s jaunty 
hat and traveling suit, was startled and bewildered at the 
abruptness of the question, and mumbled in a sort of idiotic 
way that he was ‘‘a little rusty on Scripture, and didn’t know 
whether it did or not.” 

Ah, Mr. Weiler,” said terrible Terp, ‘‘you always try 
to deceive us. When we ask you about Scripture, or paint- 
ing, or music, you feign the most profound ignorance, but 
you can, at all. times, give us the most reliable statistics on the 
manufacture and sale of cream cheese and Jersey butter. In 
all discussions of art and literature you strive to impress us 
with the idea that your head is made of leather, but without 
pressing, you have often given us long talks on political econ- 
omy. Ah, Mr. Weiler, confess it, sir : you are simply de- 
ceiving us, and beneath your deceptive exterior lies a wealth 
of high culture and artistic attainment, which you allow to 
remain hidden that you may, some day when we least expect 
it, make an astounding display of your mental prowess.” 

Now Terp hated Weiler most cordially, and never allowed 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


75 


an opportunity to puncture his dignity to escape. As she 
finished, he was rubbing his pudgy hands together in a help- 
less sort of way, and his face was as red as a lobster. O’Leeds 
laughed outright in spite of his efforts at self-control. 

‘‘To be sure, this is a solemn occasion,” continued hate- 
ful Terp. “ Father and Mrs. Graydon are about to lose three 
daughters by marriage, but notwithstanding this, the train will 
arrive in a short time, and if we are not at the depot at the 
proper time, our visit will have to be postponed until after the 
fourth of July.” 

“My precious mamma ! ” and Thalia was rapturously em- 
bracing her mother. 

“My darling,” said Nathaniel; and Frossie was in her 
father’s arms. “Oh, may the gods protect thee and keep 
thee from all harm.” 

Oh, Nathaniel, why did you not hold her in your arms 
forever ? What was it that crossed your mind as you held 
her close-folded to your bosom ? Ah, your household was 
under the shadow of impending doom, and a vague presenti- 
ment of evil caused you to press her closer and kiss her with 
unusual tenderness. 

“My own daughters,” said Minerva, kissing Aggie, “you 
are each of you as noble as Vashti.” 

“And as supremely beautiful, devoted, and self-sacrificing 
as Queen Esther,” cried Germain, who was in love with his 
prospective mother-in-law and greatly impressed by her un- 
selfish devotion and love for her daughters. 

“ Even so, and may they ever be kept close to the bleed- 
ing side of the one ‘who hath measured the waters in the 
hollow of his hand, and meted out the heavens with the span, 
and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and 
weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance.’ ” 

In a moment they were gone, and a dark presence stood 
beside Minerva — an evil presence which she could neither 
understand nor push away. At the same time the addled 


76 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


seamstress, in an adjoining room, was combing her coarse, 
red hair, and in a vigorous endeavor to disentangle herself 
from the visionary embrace of the bunion doctor, broke her 
comb into several pieces. ‘‘Bad luck’s a cornin’ sure. I 
never knew the sign to fail,” she said, superstitiously eyeing 
the broken comb. “If it be a cornin’ to me, then I hope it 
didn’t was; if it be on this ’ouse, may the good Lord pre- 
sarve ’em.” 

Terpsichore accompanied her sisters as a kind of a guar- 
dian angel, although she was not invited to do so. The gen- 
tlemen accompanied them only as far as the depot, and, as 
the train was arriving, the lovers had small opportunity for 
conversation. As Germain assisted Frossie to mount the 
steps of the car, he whispered: “My life, my love,” and 
she answered gaily in return, “Yours, forever and forever.” 
These words burned in Germain’s soul to his dying day. 
That was all, and they went whirling away. 

What was it that caused the gentlemen to pause and gaze 
anxiously after the receding train until it was almost lost to 
view ? Was it a premonition of coming danger ? Perhaps 
it was. 

Aunt Mehitable had been informed that the girls were 
coming ; that they would dine at the Grand Hotel, and be 
with her in the evening after they had finished their shopping, 
for they agreed that their purchases must be made on the 
third, or they must wait until the fifth, on account of the 
Fourth of July demonstrations. You must remember that 
they were young and very eager to inspect the material for 
their bridal dresses and trousseaux^ just as all girls are apt to 
be. Their traveling bags were taken immediately to Aunt 
Mehitable’s. 

At the hotel they were “at home,” having stopped there 
many times before, and as they had ample time to adjust 
themselves and rest before dining, they improved the oppor- 
tunity. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


77 


Terp, in her eagerness to test her pet theories about 
equalizing the chances,” made a fool of herself, as usual. 

Of course she had to do for herself ; nature had not been 
kind to her, in the way of beauty and brains ; or rather na- 
ture had not developed her faculties evenly or correctly. 
Therefore, I do not blame her for what she could not help. 
She wanted a husband, and how could she know who wanted 
her, or who did not want her, unless she asked them ? This 
looks reasonable, and then, you know, quite often there is as 
much pleasure in the pursuit as in the possession ” of a 
thing. If she could not bag the game, she, at least, had the 
privilege of giving chase; of encountering the perils and 
enjoying the felicities of the pursuit. Husband-hunting is 
much like driving fox. Sometimes eligible gentlemen may 
seem scarce, but beat the bushes and you may find the woods 
full of them. To be sure you do not pen them up in a small 
circle to secure them and shake them by the tail to keep 
them from biting you. But the excitement of the chase is 
about the same, whether the game be a husband or a fox. 
At home Terp had recently found a new object for target 
practice in the person of Judge Chatterton, a bald-headed 
old sinner, who, since the death of his wife, had been guilty 
of flirting and making eyes at almost every girl and unmar- 
ried woman he met. Terp was aware that he was in the city 
to enjoy the Fourth of July festivities, but I do not insinuate 
that this knowledge caused her to make her visit at the same 
time and stop at the same hotel. Far be it from me to make 
any unfair or unjust accusation against a poor, lone female, 
who is obliged to do for herself in this vile world. I merely 
give the facts, without making any deductions or drawing 
any conclusions. About a week previous the Judge had 
made some advances which were as follows : They met on 
the sidewalk, and the Judge politely lifted his silk tile, and 
said in that soft, gentle tone that all judges have, who are 
bald-headed: ‘‘Good morning. Miss Graydon,” at the same 


78 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


time inverting his optics in a way that said plainly to her, I 
admire you, but am afraid to say so/’ Was Terp to blame 
because Judge Chatterton’s eyes talked to her mental facul- 
ties in that way? She was a lone woman, struggling to 
establish a great reform ; and a woman with an idea is like a 
man with a grievance, sure to be heard from. On the arrival 
of the sisters at the Grand Hotel, they encountered the Judge, 
who bowed profoundly and chatted with them a few moments, 
after which he walked away. Half an hour after this, Terp 
peered into the parlor, up stairs, and there was Judge Chat- 
terton, sitting alone in a large chair, and almost in the dark, 
the blinds being closed. His head was thrown slightly back, 
and she thought him sleeping, as she entered the room softly, 
with many a smile and many a smirk, and with an eye to 
business. She intended to pull his whiskers gently to awaken 
him, then place her hand playfully over his eyes, in genuine 
school-girl fashion, for a moment, and, in a refined way, to 
draw him to the subject -of matrimony; if practicable she 
would ^‘equalize the chances,” that is to say, ‘‘pop.” I 
suppose that many a bald-headed sinner has been caught by 
many a lone female in much the same way. 

But the plan did not work. When Terp placed her hand 
upon his brow she started back with a shriek. The brow was 
icy cold, and it was not Judge Chatterton after all, although 
there was a strange resemblance. Almost immediately a well- 
dressed and polite colored girl appeared at the door. 

“ Laws, missus ! don’t be skeered.” 

“But the man insulted me.” 

“ Fo’ de Lawd, missus, de gemmen couldn’t hut you, he’s 
daid ! ” 

“I don’t mean to say that he actually insulted me,” cried 
the much excited spinster, “but he would if he had been 
alive, I know he would. He looks just like it. What right 
have the proprietors of this hotel to allow dead men in the 
ladies’ parlor ? Why do n’t they put him on ice ? ” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


79 


Explanations followed. Deceased was Mr. E. P. Bradley, 
of Galveston, Texas, who had died suddenly in his room that 
morning. His remains were placed in the parlor, and a rela- 
tive, who wanted a photograph betoe he was embalmed, had 
him made as life-like as possible, and placed by the side of 
the large plate-glass window. A photographer had succeeded 
in getting a picture, similar to the deceased, and the colored 
attendant was instructed to watch until the arrival of the un- 
dertaker, and to prevent any one from entering the room. 
For a short time she had left her post of duty, and during 
the interval of her absence Terpsichore arrived. 

The spinster, in her excitement, did not consider that the 
colored girl knew actually nothing at all of what had hap- 
pened, or what her intentions had been, but supposed that, 
unless something was done to prevent, she would be openly 
disgraced, and become a laughing stock for the good people 
of the hotel. Ah, Terp! Conscience makes cowards of us 
all.’^ She gave the girl a one-dollar greenback, and begged 
her not to “tell.” The misty maid of Zululand, not know- 
ing anything to tell, willingly agreed not to tell it. 


CHAPTEE VIII. 

THE FLIGHT. 

The girls were fully posted, and knew the kinds of mate- 
rial they were going to purchase, and the “ styles” into which 
it was to be manufactured. This was a great advantage to 
themselves and to the merchants. During the afternoon they 
purchased and were “measured” for their bridal dresses. 
After making some other purchases they decided to repair to 
Aunt Mehitable’s, and finish their shopping on the morrow. 

Good dame Mehitable received them with open arms, 
reciting the warmest words of welcome in her usual ecstatic 


So 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


manner, pausing occasionally long enough to cough and kiss 
them. Dear old creature, how she loved those bright girls. 
No mother was ever so proud of her daughters. 

‘‘ So, you Ve come to see your old aunt again, have you? 
Well, that’s right; you belong to me, and ought to be 
ashamed not to come oftener when you live so near,” and 
the old lady squeezed and tugged away at each one until 
thoroughly exhausted. 

After a lengthy visit to the wash-room, a complete change 
of clothing, a short rest, and a light repast, the party assem- 
bled on the lawn, seating themselves on rustic benches and 
chairs, and, as Terp said, ‘‘Trying to get a breath of fresh 
air.” 

“Been buying your wedding dresses, young ladies, have 
you ? ” said Aunt Mehitable. 

“Yes, aunt, and they are beauties,” said Aggie. 

“Well, now, just tell me what they are like. I am anx- 
ious to know what my girls are to wear on the most impor- 
tant occasion of their lives.” 

“Well, aunt,” continued Aggie, “mine will be made of 
extra fine, white nun’s veiling, the skirt trimmed with a large 
number of plaited ruffles, each ornamented with loops and 
ends of white satin ribbon. Tunic short, and caught back 
to the train on the right side by loops and ends of satin rib- 
bon, and on the left side by a large bunch of orange flowers. 
The train is long, plain, and lined with white silk ; the waist 
high, with shawl plaitings from the shoulders, and a bunch 
of orange blossoms high up on the right side. The veil long, 
and of tulle. The gentleman who * made the measurements 
advised me to have the dress cut very low in the neck, and 
wear no sleeves, but, aunt, I could n’t endure the propo- 
sition.” 

“Bless my soul, child, you haven’t been fooling around 
one of those man milliner shops, have you ? Of course you 
would get such advice there, but my opinion is that a woman 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


might just as well appear with bare legs as bare arms and 
naked bosom. Oh, how disgusting such women are in my 
eyes ! But you said you scorned the proposition, just like 
the dear, sweet child that you are,” said Aunt Mehitable, im- 
printing a kiss on Aggie’s lips, which looked as if they were 
about ready to pout. Thalia laughed merrily at her aunt’s 
vigorous way of expressing her disapprobation, and said : 

Oh, you know, aunt, we did not buy our dresses by the 
yard, and the man simply wanted to save material by leaving 
out almost the entire upper part. But we were shrewd 
enough to get our money’s worth of the goods. I think mine 
will be entirely too lovely for a country girl, although it will 
possibly not be made in the latest style. The bodice and 
train will be a rich cream-colored satin brocade, embroidered 
with lilies of the valley and roses; the train is lined with 
salmon pink satin duchesse, with border of same material, 
surmounted by a garland of full blown roses of the same 
shades of pink and cream color. The petticoat of salmon- 
pink satin duchesse, almost covered with point lace, the lace 
drooped with bouquets of roses. And just think, Aunt, we 
got them for a song.” 

‘‘Yes,” said Terp, “but father will have to make some 
notes above the staff, and his real estate will be embroidered 
with blossoms if you girls ever get married again.” 

“ Never mind, Terp,” cried Frossie, “ when you get mar- 
ried you shall have finer garments than we are purchasing. 
Only hurry up or you will have that benevolent old gentle- 
man who rambles around with a scythe hung over his shoul- 
der for a lover, and when Father Time pops the question you 
will be compelled to give him an affirmative answer.” 

“Indeed,” said Terp, “I am deeply grateful for your 
advice. If all mundane resources fail I will marry the man 
in the moon, but I know Aunt wants to hear about your dress, 
although such talk is not as bracing as the breath of a bliz- 
zard in such a sweltering atmosphere.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDOX. 


‘‘Well/’ spiritedly, “my dress is a beauty, if I do say it 
myself. It is of pale blue brocade, embossed with roses, 
blue bells, and white flowers, trimmed with silver jupe of 
palest blue antique satin, veiled in fine lace; train lined in 
the pale satin, trimmed with silver and covered with lace, 
and I shall wear a plume and veil, and carry a bouquet of 
roses in my hand.” 

“And oh, how sweet will be our Frossie ! ” said Thalia, 
enthusiastically. 

“She is the fairest among ten thousand,” said Aunt 
Mehitable. 

“And the one altogether lovely,” added the black-eyed 
beauty. 

“Your flattery will turn my poor head wrongwise,” cried 
the blushing blonde. “Now let us decide the style for our 
everyday dresses ; you know. Aunt, we have agreed to have 
the cut just alike. I think satin-finished silk is handsome, 
and think the prettiest design is the last one we looked at, 
you know, girls. The skirt is of right size round, and four- 
gored, with six panels on the gores, three at each side, folded 
double lengthwise, and fixed to overlap each other at each 
side, producing the effect of two broad triple-plaited panels, 
in V shape from the center to the front gore. The exposed 
portion of the front gore is covered with bead passa7nenterie^ 
and upon the panels nearest the back is a row of similar 
passa7nenterie. The back drapery is an ample breadth, that 
is draped in full, loose puffs at the top and falls in broad 
kilt plaits below. The top is turned under deeply, and two 
upward-running plaits are close to the fold in each front edge, 
the drapery being inserted in the side seams of the body be- 
low the waist lines and caught together underneath to a clus- 
ter of plaits that is laid near the top at the center and tacked 
to the center seam on the outside. A deep loop formed high 
up in each side edge, tackings at each side to the body, and 
tackings made to the skirt at the tops of the kilt plaits, com- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


83 


plete the draping; the puffs drooping over the tops of the 
kilt plaits, and the drapery falling eyen with the edge of the 
skirt. The body is a neat-fitting basque, slightly jDointed at 
the end of the closing, arches prettily over the hips. A curv- 
ing center seam, side, and under arm gores and double bust 
darts make the adjustment; and along the lower edges to the 
side seams is a row of passame^iterie which is carried up the 
front at each side, at the closing in vest outline, and across 
the back below a high standing collar. A row of passamen- 
terie encircles the coat sleeves a little above the wrist edge, 
completing them in harmony with the rest of the basque. 
Any style of lingerie may be worn.’’ 

‘‘Dear heart,” cried Aunt Mehitable, with visible amaze- 
ment, “you don’t mean to say that all them crooks and 
maneuvers belong to one dress ? AVhy, Frossie, they would 
draw you all out of shape. And to think of the shameless 
extravagance, the reckless waste of money ; such a vain dis- 
play, when one-half the human race can scarcely afford a 
change of clothing, or a sufficient amount of plain food. 
You ought to be ashamed, my dears, to be so thoughtless.” 

“Quite right,” said Terp, “but is it not customary with 
the human race to make extravagant weddings and costly 
funerals, among the poor as well as the rich ? Strange that in 
the three most important events of life we have no power to 
resist the custom of the people — in the cradle we suck our 
thumbs and spill our milk ; at the altar we would mortgage 
our future for wedding finery; and in death we would that 
our friends spend enough money at our funeral to endow an 
almshouse. It’s the same among savage or civilized nations.” 

“Only,” said Thalia, “some never get the chance.” 

Terpsichore did not exactly understand Thalia’s meaning. 

“ Do not allow any clouds to darken your sunshine,” con- 
tinued consistent Aunt Mehitable. “You will probably be 
married but once in a lifetime, and, as you have plenty of 
money, why should n’t you have extravagant wedding gowns ? 


84 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


I am sure my pocketbook is at your disposal, and there is 
plenty in it, too. It is mine, and if it be the righteous will of 
God I shall leave nothing for the bailiffs to quarrel over. 
God and my daughters and the poor shall have it all.'' 

So the evening wore away pleasantly, if not profitably. 

The Fourth of July was ushered in with a blare of trum- 
pets, a terrific explosion of cannon, crackers, and other muni- 
tions of peace. Young America will insist on celebrating the 
Declaration of Independence and satirizing the efforts of old 
King George at governing the American people until time 
shall be no more. Who would have it otherwise ? Our 
independence, like salvation, ‘‘was bought with a price." 
We not only have a prime article of freedom and patriotism, 
but entirely too much of it. However, we have none for 
sale. This superabundance of patriotism works out through 
natural channels — the pores of loyal Americans — on the 
Fourth of July, which is the great safety-valve of the republic. 

The city, on this particular morning, was early in an 
uproar, which continued during the day with vigorous loyalty. 
Notwithstanding the noise and confusion incident to such a 
celebration, our girls found opportunities to complete their 
purchases. Late in the afternoon they met, on one of the 
crowded thoroughfares, Mr. Paul Satalia, their former in- 
structor in music, who, from some cause unknown, had not 
been visible to sight or sense around the Graydon mansion 
for many days. He was all smiles, and executed a large 
number of fashionable contortions, notwithstanding the 
crowded condition of the street. 

‘‘Dear Mr. Satalia," cried Terp, “you are quite a 
stranger ! The girls had forgotten all about you in their 
eagerness to complete arrangements for their approaching 
nuptials. Frossie, especially, has forgotten every man in the 
world except Germain." 

For a moment the fires of a fierce hatred burned in his 
eyes, and traces of the hyena were visible on his counten- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


85 


ance, but only for a moment; then he was as calm and 
urbane as usual. Of course he was invited to call that even- 
ing for a social chat, and he arrived at an early hour after tea. 
To his consternation, Aunt Mehitable announced that she had 
purchased tickets for the entire party to an entertainment, to 
be given under the auspices of the Ladies’ Relief Society,” 
at the Grand Opera House. 

‘^What is the nature of the entertainment?” queried 
Thalia. 

‘‘This play will be given for the benefit of the poor, and 
the proceeds will be used next winter when the poor of our 
city suffer the most. The entertainment will be strictly by 
home talewt, and is the old favorite. Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” 

“Oh, horrors ! ” ejaculated Frossie, who had been engaged 
in a confidential conversation with Satalia at the other ^nd of 
the room. “ Dear aunt, I have suffered enough for one day. 
Do not compel me to listen to an amateur ‘ Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin’ troupe. My poor nerves are not strong enough to 
endure it. . The balance of my life would be tortured by 
visions of disconsolate Uncle Toms, overgrown Topsies, 
spiritualized Evas, in muslin wraps, who constantly forget 
their lines; funny Marks, who drink brandy and water behind 
the scenes, and stick pins in the bull dogs to make them howl. 
No, dear aunt, you must excuse me; Mr. Satalia wants me to 
go with him to the bridge and witness the fire works, and I 
have consented to go.” 

Of course she was excused. Before entering Aunt Mehi- 
table’s private carriage, which conveyed them up town, 
Thalia twined her arms around Frossie and imprinted a warm 
kiss on the dear lips of her they loved so well. Her example 
was contagious, and Aggie and Aunt Mehitable followed it. 
Mr. Satalia looked as if he would enjoy the osculatory act 
himself, but refrained with becoming dignity. 

“ Mr. Satalia,” said Aggie, “ take good care of sister, and 
return her as soon as she is weary ; the poor child has walked 


86 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


a great deal to-day, and should not be out long in the night 
air, especially as it looks as if it would rain, and the atmos- 
phere may become heavy and damp.’’ 

Sweet Thalia and Aggie, what made you so tenderly 
attentive to Frossie on that occasion? To be sure, you were 
always tender and attentive, and always loved Frossie more 
than any other being upon this earth ; to be sure you wor- 
shipped her, and your lives were so closely welded and linked 
together that you were as three in one — the triune God of a 
happy home, but these were, perhaps, not the only reasons 
why you pressed her so tenderly and kissed her so passion- 
ately. Did you notice that Frossie was enamored of Satalia, 
and seemed submissively facinating to him ! Perhaps you did, 
but I think not. It was the shadow of calamity that fell 
about you, and the same dark presence that stood by Miner- 
va’s side was with you, and, like her, you could neither under- 
stand it nor push it away. 

According to arrangements, Thalia, Aggie, and Terp 
were landed at the opera house, Paul and Frossie at the sus- 
pension bridge. The last named were the first to leave the 
house, the carriage returning for the others. From the great 
piers of the bridge and from thousands of other sources up 
and down the river, gas jets were arranged to give a brilliant 
and even dazzling effect to the scene. The night was quite 
dark, and the sky was overhung with clouds. 

At an early hour the bridge was crowded by a throng of 
ladies, gentlemen, and children, who listened, with rapt at- 
tention to the rendition of Wagner’s Tannhauser,” by Gil- 
more’s great band, which was floating in the Ohio river 
beneath them, on the beautiful steamer ‘AVhite Wings.” I 
say the music was listened to with rapt attention. I will 
modify this statement by saying that the ^‘rapt attention” 
was confined to a portion of the great crowd, for the river 
was so wide that only a portion of the number in attendance 
•could hear distinctly and appreciate the music. What was 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


87 


true of the ‘‘ overture” was true of the other music furnished 
on that occasion. Paul and Frossie were near the center ol' 
the bridge, and were in excellent position to hear and see the 
performance given on that side. As the reader is only inter- 
ested in their convenience and welfare, it is of small impor- 
tance whether the balance of the crowd could hear and see 
or not. The ^‘overture” was followed by a terrific and 
spontaneous volley of sky-rockets and other terrestrial explo- 
sives, during which the New Orleans Gold Band, on the 
steamer Albatross,” played the ‘‘Star Spangled Banner” 
in splendid style. On each side of the bridge was a com- 
modious walk for foot travel ; in the center was a large drive- 
way for vehicles, etc., which was separated from the foot- 
walks by iron railing or braces. Paul and Frossie were on 
the foot-path, close to the iron bars that separated them from 
the driveway, gazing on the brilliant scene down the river. 
The illuminated waters of the Ohio ; the great, blazing steam- 
boats and other vessels ; the myriads of Chinese lanterns, on 
shore and op the steamers; the wonderful music, all combined 
to arouse the spirits of the vast crowd to fever heat. At the 
beginning of the performance the driveway of the bridge was 
unobstructed, the police not allowing foot passengers thereon, 
but the force of a good-natured crowd caused the police to 
relent, and it was soon thronged with people. 

Being somewhat in the shadow, Paul’s right arm twined 
around Frossie’s waist. She struggled with ill-concealed dis- 
pleasure, but the crowd was dense, and she finally seemed to 
become reconciled to the situation, allowing his arm to remain 
there, although she knew it was not right for him to take such 
liberty with her person in the absence of her promised hus- 
band. 

Once he stooped and whispered in his passionate. South- 
ern way, “ I love you ! ” 

She made a frantic effort to disengage herself, but did not 
succeed. Poor girl, she was so young. 


88 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘‘You are my only hope; reject me, and I die; love me, 
and the world is better than heaven. To see you the wife of 
another would freeze the blood in my veins ; to give you up 
would break my heart. 

As he spoke the words his face was very close, and she 
felt that he was wooing her away from the path of propriety, 
at least. He seemed never so handsome, with his faultless 
swallow-tail, and spotless white vest; his voice seemed never 
so musical and sweet. Poor lamb, gentle and loving, and 
the world is full of wolves. 

“The Georgia Jubilee singers,’’ on board the “Yellow 
Rose ” steamer, now filled the air with their wonderful mel- 
ody. They sang, “ My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of 
liberty.” The crowd was completely carried away by the 
song, and gave vent to their feelings in loud and prolonged 
cheering. 

‘ ‘ Darling, no man ever loved a woman as I love you. 
Not an hour passes without bringing your bright, beautiful 
face to me. The current of my being is centered in you. 
There is no life without you, for all the brightness of the 
world had fled until you came to me. Fly with me ! be my 
wife, and with you by my side I could face a frowning world 
and laugh at calamity. My precious darling ! my own sweet 
love ! ” 

Low and musical were the words, and the passionate eyes 
were burning into her soul. Poor girl ! sweet lamb ; why did 
she not think of her happy home and loving friends ? Had 
she done so she would not have allowed him to speak of love. 

“Sweetheart, come with me! After a while a carriage 
will await us on the Kentucky side of the river. A friend 
will convey us to a place where all pursuit would be useless. 
We could be married quietly, travel extensively, and by and 
by return to your friends, who would become reconciled. 
With my violin and your splendid voice we could gain the 
admiration of the public. Come, love ! come I ” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 89 

Poor child, just away from mother’s heart and father’s 
strong arms, and to be so tempted. 

A bugle sounded the call for silence, and the fierce dis- 
play of fireworks was suspended for a few moments. 

A member of the Georgia minstrel troupe, with a power- 
ful and melodious voice, sang the ‘^Battle Hymn of the Re- 
public” from the deck of the “Yellow Rose,” and the entire 
troupe joined in the chorus of “Glory, Hallelujah!” Some 
one on the bridge caught up the strain, and it was an infec- 
tious example for the vast throng on the bridge, and up and 
down the river, on the Ohio side and on the Kentucky side. 
Thousands joined in the mighty chorus, “Glory, Glory, Hal- 
lelujah ! ” and, when it was finished, men and women and 
children were weeping. Paul Satalia was still talking of love, 
unmindful of a tall, Roman-visaged female, who stood behind 
him, within arm’s reach, on the driveway, separated from 
them by the iron bars. 

The fireworks continued, and the very heavens were 
shaken by the explosion of cannon, rockets, and other ex- 
plosives. From the “White Wings” steamer Gilmore’s 
Band gave the assemblage the grand “ Rhapsodie Hohgroise,” 
by Liszt, in a most charming way. 

The fireworks continued, and Satalia still whispered his 
love to the flexible heart and brain of the girl. Poor child I 
she was so young. 

Suddenly there was a great hissing, and a tremendous bit 
of fiery blending of colors and fizzing, that finally developed 
into a great arch across the Ohio end of the bridge, higher 
than the piers ; and clearly outlined against the sky were the 
words, in living letters of fire, “Our native land forever.” 
Almost instantly the same sounds occurred on the opposite 
side of the bridge, with similar results, except that the arch 
read, “Home, Sweet Home.” 

The New Orleans Gold Band played “ Hail, Columbia ! ” 
and Satalia whispered his love in passionate tones with all 


90 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


the eagerness of his fiery nature. How could she resist his 
eloquent pleadings? She was only human; a pure, white 
blossom that had never been exposed to any atmosphere other 
than the soft airs of home life. Immaculate within herself, 
and strong in conscious virtue, she had learned to love those 
with whom she associated. The subtle villain had long ago 
won her respect and esteem. She trusted him because she 
thought him worthy and honorable ; and his knowledge and 
love for music was a bond of strength between them. Con- 
genial spirits are ‘‘birds of a feather,’’ and while Frossie 
could readily discern his genius and good qualities, she failed 
altogether to recognize the faults of his character, so plain to 
Terp. Do not blame her too hastily for allowing him to take 
such liberties with her in a public place. Remember that 
they were unnoticed, except by the eagle eyes behind them. 
He was a friend to the family, and had a better right to place 
his arm around her than had he been a total stranger. Such 
has been the custom among damsels and lads of every age 
since the world began, and when Gabriel blows his trumpet, 
and the heavens are “rolled together as a scroll,” I suppose 
the majority of the young men will be found with their good 
right arms around the waists of the young feminine majority. 

It is the lovely, trusting girls who attract the attention of 
libertines and villains, and are more exposed and tempted 
than girls not so well favored. Correct home influences rise 
up and around them, and tower above them like stone walls ; 
sometimes a wolf breaks into the fold, but as the supply of 
lambs is much greater than the supply of wolves, in civilized 
countries, society is reasonably safe. 

Satalia was intoxicated by her dazzling beauty, and stung 
by the knowledge that she would soon drift away from him, 
where he could not follow, was almost insane with the idea of 
securing her by fair means, if possible ; if not, then otherwise. 

The program was lengthy, and the hour was late. Some- 
thing happened that brought the celebration to a premature 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


91 


close. It was a thunder storm (if thunder storms happen). 
A low rumble and a few rain drops caused the people to 
notice the black clouds that had risen apace. Soon sharper 
peals of thunder rent the air, vivid flashes of lightning laid 
the pyrotechnical triumphs of the hour completely in the 
shade; and heaven’s artillery made the people forget the pop- 
gun magnitude of the cannon sky rockets. Almost instantly 
rain began to fall in torrents. Steamers skurried to safe 
quarters, the lights along the river went out, and the crowd 
on the bridge was in about the same condition as Napoleon’s 
army after Blucher’s charge on the field of Waterloo. One 
man tried to leap the strand of suspension wires into the Ohio 
River, and he was a man with a family at that, for no earthly 
reason, except that he wanted to go some place in a hurry. 
The crowd was visibly diminished within a few moments, and 
in a short time the great bridge was deserted, apparently, by 
all save Frossie, Satalia, and the gaunt female in the driveway. 
The storm was now appallingly terrific ; the rain descended 
in a deluge, and the mighty river beneath their feet roared in 
sullen tones, but above its voice came, to the ears of the 
gaunt female, the voice of Satalia: ‘‘Mine, mine, forever 
mine ! ” 

A terrible peal of thunder drowned Frossie’s voice, if she 
answered, and, in the vivid flash of lightning that followed, 
the spectral female on the main thoroughfare saw Frossie and 
Satalia running towards the Kentucky shore. She followed 
them quickly. 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN SEARCH OF A CAB AND TWO WHITE HORSES. 

Aggie and Thalia were not interested in “Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin,” and voted it a dismal failure. Having ordered the 
carriage for half-past nine, they were prepared to and did 


92 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


leave the house before the play was half finished. I give 
these facts for two reasons : First, to show you that they were 
acquainted with the merits of the play, having witnessed its 
execution many times. Secondly, I wish to impress upon 
your minds, as emphatically as possible, that they were ladies 
of refinement, and could not appreciate the awful detail of 
the drama when given by incompetent actors. But for sweet 
charity’s sake they were willing to endure a little while what 
their nerves were not strong enough to endure for an entire 
evening. I hope, furthermore, by these plain statements 
of fact, to elevate them in your estimate of their characters. 

At a moderately early hour they were again at Aunt 
Mehitable’s, merrily discussing the miserable play, and sur- 
mising about the moral effect on the public if the dismal 
affair were taken from the boards and the good people of this 
country allowed a little time for rest and recreation. 

‘‘ Uncle Tom has been a successful missionary for many 
long years, and his age and mission entitle him to respect,” 
said Aunt Mehitable, warmly, in defense of the play. 

^‘True, my dear aunt,” Thalia replied; ‘‘but is it not 
time to place him on the superannuated list? All worn-out 
missionaries are bores. The mission of the play is ended ; 
its work is accomplished. An exhausted drama is like an 
aged widower after a young girl for a wife : he fails to attract 
her favorable attention, and wonders why he is not as accept- 
able as in former years, but the reasons are patent, neverthe- 
less.” 

“And, oh, Aunt!” cried Aggie, fervently; “is not the 
morale of society at stake, on the stage as well as in the pul- 
pit? Is ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ proper food for our better 
selves ? Is it a source of refinement, or even correct senti- 
ment ? The troupes that exhibit in small places are not so 
good as those which exhibit in cities, but are usually com- 
posed of a lot of roustabout darkies for jubilee singers; a 
dilapidated individual for Marks, who always gets drunk 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


93 


before he leaves town ; a Phineas who looks more like a 
keno expert than a Quaker; a thirty-year-old Topsy with big 
legs, dressed in a decollette coffee-sack and black silk stock- 
ings; a donkey which looks as if it had lost its pedigree in a 
struggle for a livelihood ; and all of the troupe as untidy as 
possible. Is it right to sustain and encourage a drama that 
no longer has a legitimate object? If the public demands 
unwholesome things, is that a good reason why the unwhole- 
some should be supplied ? As the people do not longer de- 
mand ^ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’ I think it an evidence of im- 
provement and refinement. Mercy, what was that?” 

That was thunder and lightning, and plenty of it. The 
hour was quite late, and the girls had prepared to retire for 
the night, but in another moment the storm was raging vio- 
lently, and they concluded to wait awhile. They had for- 
gotten all about the unpropitious aspect of the weather, and 
were thoroughly alarmed at the sudden crash of elements. 
Why did not Frossie return ? 

Terpsichore had left them at the entrance of the opera 
house, saying that she preferred witnessing the display of 
fire works at the bridge to wasting time at a ‘‘nigger show.” 
Ostensibly she did, but in fact she felt anxious about Frossie, 
knowing, as she did, that Satalia had sworn to win her by 
fair or foul means. She had never revealed to any one her 
knowledge of Satalia, believing that Frossie was secure from 
all harm, and that Paul’s railings were meaningless chatter 
and should be treated with silent contempt. However, she 
knew him to be unscrupulous, even desperate, in his weak 
way, and determined to follow them and see what she could 
discover. She was the grim-visaged female with eagle eyes, 
mentioned recently. It was some consolation for the sisters 
to think that possibly Terp was with Frossie. In fact, her 
absence made it quite probable that the entire party were 
waiting for the storm to abate. The carriage had been sent 
at ten o’clock, and it was to remain at a designated spot until 


94 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


called for by Paul and Frossie. The storm did not abate, 
however, for a long time, which seemed an age to the fright- 
ened girls, but it did finally compromise and subside to a 
drizzle, and the drizzle. did subside to a perfect calm without 
moisture. At twelve the carriage returned with no occupant 
except the driver, who said he had not been able to find 
either of the three missing ones, and that probably they were 
at some hotel, as all public houses near the river were full of 
people who had gone there to escape the violence of the 
storm. Should he return and search for them or not ? Aunt 
Mehitable ordered him to return at once and make a thorough 
search. 

At about half-past one o’clock a. m. a weather-beaten 
female stood in Aunt Mehitable’s parlor gasping for breath, 
and presenting the appearance of a damaged advocate of sig- 
nal service reform ; or a battered piece of flotsam, washed 
ashore in a gale, with her garments clinging like cerements; 
wild, haggard, and terrifically terrible to the naked eye. 

They are gone ! ” almost shrieked the drabbled spinster. 
‘^Paul Satalia and Frossie have eloped. I followed them, 
but could not prevent it ; they have escaped ! Can you not 
understand it ? Frossie has been playing a double game. 
She loved Satalia the best, and has fled with him. I over- 
heard them plotting on the bridge when they did not dream 
I was near. I heard him declare his love; saw them billing 
and cooing, and carrying on in a shameless way — hugging 
and kissing each other in a crowd of thousands.” 

^‘It’s false!” screamed Thalia, thoroughly aroused. 

Frossie is true and noble and above deception. Your 
words are not true. She never loved Paul Satalia, nor would 
she elope with any man, even if she did love him ! ” 

‘‘I speak only the truth,” said Terp. would that it 
were otherwise, for it will ruin father. They were the hist 
ones to leave the bridge. I followed them to the Kentucky 
side, and there, according to the arrangement, of which I 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


95 


heard him speak, was a cab hitched to a couple of white 
horses, awaiting to convey them to some place* of safety. I 
saw them enter the cab and drive swiftly away.’’ 

Could you not have been mistaken ? ” said Aunt Mehit- 
able, who was almost heart-broken by the news. She thought 
she had noticed an unbecoming sociability between Frossie 
and Satalia. Strange that one never remembers such things 
until after it is too late. 

am not mistaken,” said the antiquated female, and she 
related in minute detail the facts already known to the reader, 
embellishing and magnifying to suit herself. When her story 
was finished this water-soaked creature was aware of the fact 
that she had become a prominent factor in the ‘‘House of 
Graydon.” She felt a slight tremor as she thought of her 
temporary importance and transitory greatness. To be, for 
once in her lifetime, the center of attraction gave her long 
continued twitchings of bliss, and to retain her seat on this 
high pedestal of personal enjoyment, she found it necessary 
to prevaricate to an unlimited extent. She could not under- 
stand why anyone should be condemned for eloping. She 
was ready to elope with anyone so inclined on short notice, 
for elopement meant marriage, and marriage was the goal 
toward which she was drifting (in her mind). 

Aggie was weeping bitterly, and Thalia was by her side 
striving to comfort her by sympathetic threats of hysterics. 
In this, the darkest hour of their lives, they were very close 
to each other. “ Into each life- some rain must fall”; swift 
calamity, or sudden death, are all the more terrible on ac- 
count of their swiftness, sometimes. A plodding doom is 
sometimes better than immediate destruction. They could 
not realize the full weight and strength of their misfortune ; 
they could not fully understand that their darling Frossie had, 
in a moment of weakness, embraced a life of shame and 
wretchedness, and that they were, in a single moment, sep- 
arated perhaps forever. Nor did they believe any such base- 


96 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


ness of their sister, but they were conscious that something 
terrible had happened. They knew that sin and uncleanness 
were in the world, but were not acquainted with it by per- 
sonal contact; they knew that Frossie had an impulsive na- 
ture, and was easily persuaded on account of the warmth of 
her affections ; but they did not believe that she could be led 
astray by the sophistries of a deluded music teacher. Alas, 
poor children ! their idol of clay had been broken ; their 
altars rudely overturned, and their mouths were in the dust. 
Aunt Mehitable, bless her, was the only one who did any- 
thing practical, and it required some time for her to deter- 
mine a plan of action. Finally, she sent for a policeman, to 
whom Terp related her story, omitting nothing, and adding 
much. The official was quite particular about obtaining a 
full description of the cab with white horses, into which, the 
spinster said, the couple had entered and were driven rapidly 
away. Detectives were sent out immediately by the chief ot 
police, and, by daylight, Nathaniel and Minerva Graydon, 
Rudolph Germain, Tiberius O’Leeds, and Zebulon Weiler 
were in receipt of telegrams calling them immediately to the 
city. By noon all were at Aunt Mehitable’s, except Weiler, 
who, in a note delivered by O’ Leeds, expressed his sympathy 
for the family, and told them to send for him if he could be 
of any service. He was not again summoned. Words can 
not describe the dismay of the new-comers when they learned 
the state of affairs. Nathaniel’s jaws came together with a 
snap, and his face assumed a stern, terrible look. O’Leeds 
was kindly and soothingly sympathetic. And Germain — 
may the gods forbid that I should ever be called upon to 
chronicle another such expression on a human face. The 
cruel ferocity of his countenance, and the murderous gleam 
of his eyes, made him an object of terror to good Aunt Mehit- 
able. Minerva was bewildered and stunned by the story of 
elopement, and when she had heard it all, buried her face in 
her handkerchief, and a sense of her loss fell upon her with 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


97 


all its crushing weight; but in the depths of humility she 
found her . Savior, and although her heart was breaking, Terp 
heard her softly say : Thy will, oh Lord ! not mine ! ” 

What must be done must be done quickly, if the couple 
be apprehended before they reached the place where Satalia 
had said, all pursuit would be useless’’ — so the chief of 
police decided. It was conceded by all that they were some- 
where south of the Ohio river, and the cream of the police 
force and many private detectives were employed to look for 
a hidden trail. 

O’Leeds went up the river, Germain went down the river, 
and Nathaniel went tearing around through the state of Ken- 
tucky with all the force of his vigorous nature. He was not 
at home bodily or spiritually, and damned and’ slammed 
things and people at a tremendous rate. The police and the 
private detectives left no stone unturned, apparently, and yet 
they were baffled on every hand, and no clew could be found. 
You see, they were all after a cab with two white horses 
attached. The search went on with undiminished vigor for 
more than* a week. An old woman, in a small village many 
miles down the river, gave Germain a garter which she had 
picked up on the bank of the river, a dainty bit of feminine 
underwear, made of white satin and rubber. It was cer- 
tainly Frossie’s garter, for these words had been written upon 
it with indelible ink: ‘‘Frossie Graydon’s garter, Manus de 
tabula^ They were written thereon by Thalia, in a spirit of 
pleasantry, with a desire to tease her sister. Twenty miles 
up the river a small boy found a white kid shoe, which, upon 
examination, proved to be the property of the absent maiden. 
O’Leeds secured it. In the center of the state of Kentucky 
Nathaniel was given a pocket book which had belonged to 
his missing daughter. A man had found it at the side of a 
turnpike; it contained nothing but a scrap of paper upon 
which Aggie had entered a bill of particulars about some pur- 
chases made by the trio. The initials “ F. G.” were on the 


98 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


book, and Nathaniel recognized it as one he had presented 
her. A detective found a lace collar in quite another portion 
of the state, which Minerva recognized as one she had fash- 
ioned with her own hands. Each article was regarded as a 
clew by the finder, but the detectives entertained a widely 
different view of the matter, and concluded that the garter, 
shoe, collar, and pocket book, had been strewn around pro- 
miscously, for the purpose of misleading those who came in 
pursuit, and, furthermore, that the missing pair could not be 
found by giving these articles attention. 

At the end of ten days the stricken family returned home. 
In two weeks they were informed by the chief of police that 
all further efforts to discover the whereabouts of the couple 
would prove unavailing ; that all had been done that could be 
done, and he advised the family to discontinue the search. 
This man was acquainted with all phases of crime and ini- 
quity, and did not always view things in the same light as 
people who were not familiar with, by daily experience, the 
awful turpitude of the human heart. He held what he 
claimed to be a logical view of the matter: ‘‘Elopements 
generally turn out all right in the end,’’ said he to one of the 
force, and he could even then see, with his mind’s eye, the 
girl and the man living in the sweets of an honorable mar- 
ried life ; or, perhaps, she had fallen from a virtuous altitude 
to a life of shame. If the man was not rich, by and by pov- 
erty would pinch them, or he would abandon her, and w^here 
in this wide world could a poor, wayward, broken-hearted 
girl go except back to the loving arms and forgiving heart of 
mother? This was the chief’s logic, given in the light of 
many years’ experience. Germain brought the tidings from 
police headquarters, one evening when the family,^ together 
with O’Leeds and Weiler, were -all assembled after tea in the 
parlor of the Graydon mansion. Nathaniel could endure 
it no longer; a reaction came upon his strong nature, and he 
sobbed like a child. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


99 


“ My darling ! My darling ! Gone to a doom worse than 
death. Oh, to think I should be smitten by the hand of my 
God to the very earth, in these my old days. What have I 
done to be dealt with so harshly ? I thought there was no 
man on earth so happy as myself among my daughters, and 
with my faithful wife. How could I know or dream that it 
would not always last? Earthly happiness depends upon the 
security and stability of our earthly treasures. If the thief 
comes by night and steals them away, in a single moment, 
the whole of life’s journey is rolled together as a scroll, for 
past joys are forgotten in present pain, and future good hides 
behind the shadows of present calamity.” 

Minerva’s voice, in thrilling accents, answered: ‘‘The 
eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting 
arms.” 

“Can you,” said Nathaniel, “still retain your faith in 
God, when your best earthly treasure has been thus rudely 
torn from your bosom ? When your heart-strings have been 
so cruelly shaken by the hand of the spoiler ? ” 

And th^ soft voice answered : “Though He slay me, yet 
will I trust Him. The Lord is my refuge, and my strength, 
and my deliverer; a very present help in times of trouble.” 

“But how can I endure life without her?” 

Softer and sweeter than before : “ ‘My presence shall go 
with thee, and I will give thee rest,’ saith the Lord thy God.” 

“Dear mamma,” said Thalia, impulsively throwing her 
arms around Minerva, “how can we give her up? What 
will our lives be without her ? ” 

“ And, oh ! ” said Aggie, “ I can not live — to live would 
be to suffer death daily — ” 

“ Gone to a life of shame! gone to a life of dishonor! 
My Frossie — the light of home — the hope of my declining 
years. Oh, may the curse of almighty God fall upon the 
man who betrayed her, and took our sunshine and joy and 
light away. May he suffer the torments of the damned while 


lOO 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


he lives, and sink into endless hell when he dies. May his 
right arm be palsied, his eyes lose their sight, and his tongue 
rot in his mouth ; and may his soul die in his body, and live 
no more except in the flames of damnation ! ’’ 

And the soft voice answered: ‘^Vengeance is mine; I 
will repay, saith the Lord.’’ 

‘‘Dear friends,” said O’Leeds, with a voice trembling 
with emotion and deep sympathy, “my heart aches for you 
in your great sorrow ; I realize how desolate and dark home 
will be without her — ” 

And the low voice said, still quoting Scripture: “I am 
the light of the world ; whosoever believeth on me' shall not 
dwell in darkness.” 

“But, mamma,” said weeping Aggie, “the hours will be 
so long, the days will be so dreary ; our hearts will be so sad 
without her. Oh ! what shall we do ? ” 

And the mother’s voice replied: “Come unto me, all ye 
who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 

Then silence fell upon them, broken only by sobs that 
could not be repressed. Presently the soft voice, trembling 
at first with anguish, began to say : “ Dear Lord, who saved 

our souls and placed our feet upon the rock of ages where no 
perils can find us and no disasters make us afraid; sweet 
Christ, whose blood is the life of the world ; whose love is the 
strength of nations; who was willing to endure the ills of 
earth life for the glory of the Father ; who accepted shame 
and death for us ; whose bosom is a refuge from all danger ; 
what would we do, if, in our great distress, we could not find 
Thee ? Where can we find peace and rest save in thee ? We 
need Thee always, but we need Thee most when our burden is 
greater than we can bear. Our grief hides everything, except 
Thy dear face ; in our deep humility we would kiss Thy feet ; 
in our agony we would lean upon Thy breast, and find shelter 
within Thy strong arms, which are able to carry the sins of 
the world. We placed our treasures in the shadow of the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


lOI 


Rock, feeling that they would be safe in the keeping of the 
good Shepherd, but our brightest jewel has been taken ; we 
placed ourselves in the shadow of the cross, trusting alone in 
Thy goodness and mercy, and, also, we can not understand 
why our trust should be so rudely shaken, and our faith so 
sorely tried. Help us in our weakness to find Thee aright. 
Let our faith be as the faith of the patriarch of Uz, and our 
love as strong as the love of Mary Magdalen; help us to kiss 
the rod and bless Thy holy name ; help us to believe that it is 
for our good, and in Thine own good time all will be made 
right. Lead us and we can not go astray; guard our ways 
and no harm can reach us. We are as little children pleading 
with Thee for deliverance, knowing that Thou art ever near, 
yet failing to understand why our calamity should come upon 
us. ^ Darkness is Thy secret place and a pavilion of dark 
water and thick clouds of the sky are around about Thee, but 
because Thou hast been my help, therefore, in the shadow of 
Thy wings will I rejoice.’ Oh, mysterious God, whose heights 
are unattainable; whose depths are illimitable, and whose 
boundlessness can not be explored, we are told to cast our 
burdens upon Thee and find sustaining grace. Somewhere 
out in the wide, wicked world our darling is this night; we can 
not go to her ; we can not rescue her from the dangers to 
which she is exposed. There is none to help her but Thee. 
Thou art mighty to save. Thou art strong to deliver, and, if it 
be Thy gracious will, bring her back to us, to the home she has 
left so cheerless, to the hearts she has left so sad. Be a wall 
of fire about her to save and lead her through the mazes of 
sin unsullied to the arms of her Saviour. If it be Thy right- 
eous will that she return to us covered with a mantle of 
shame and dishonor, oh, precious Saviour give us strength to 
bare it. Better death than shame, but if it be Thy will, lead 
us by Thy hand, and sustain us by Thy grace, and neither 
shame nor anything shall make our love cold. If she has 
sinned, forgive her; if she has been betrayed, be merciful 


— 8 — 


102 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


and tender and woo her again to the path of rectitude. Per- 
haps we loved her too much; perhaps, in our weakness, we 
made her an idol, and Thou didst trace upon the table of 
stone, ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’ Oh, for- 
give our sin; remember it no more against us. We are 
human. Thou art divine. We are finite. Thou art infinite. 
Lead us by thy counsel ; teach us to live daily as if we recog- 
nized the great responsibility of living, and the certainty of 
change and death. Soothe our bruised and bleeding hearts, 
and forgive our sins for the dear Lord’s sake.” 

And there was silence and sounds of weeping. Germain 
had not spoken. The hope of finding his lost love had 
buoyed him to the present time, but hope was now gone. 
He sat stoically, listening to the words of the weeping and 
broken-hearted parents and sisters, a picture of despair. 
There was a far away look in his eyes, and it is even doubt- 
ful whether he heard all that was said or not. His anguish 
was great, and his fierce temper beat in sullen fury until his 
muscles swelled out like whip cords. The freezing glitter of 
his eyes, the cruel expression of his mouth, and the manifest 
spirit of hatred and revenge that played upon his counte- 
nance, was a terrible sight to the gentle Minerva and her 
family. It was evident that the evil had triumphed over the 
good in his nature, and Terp shudderingly whispered to Mr. 
Weiler, “ That somebody would probably get hurt.” Weiler 
did not understand her, and not being on good terms, did not 
ask her to explain. Germain arose, and they never forgot 
the wild, insane expression of his countenance, and the terri- 
ble words he uttered : 

“Talk of God and Christ at such a time as this! What 
have the dwellers of heaven to do with the plans of the 
devils in hell ? I tell you we are victims of chance and cir- 
cumstance. To-day we are strong in love and hope, to-mor- 
row we are in a dark pit from whose labyrinthian maze we 
cannot escape. We boast of happiness, and feel strong in 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 103 

earthly bliss, when ruin is only a day ahead of us. Hate is 
always on the trail of love. Shame follows virtue, and dis- 
honor lies in wait for the pure in heart. Our lives are in the 
clutches of fate ; our destinies are shaped by our surround- 
ings — shaped for heaven if our environs be good, shaped 
for hell if they are evil. Our treasures are like the sands on 
the shore of the ocean, they slip into the cruel waves and we 
see them no more forever.’’ 

And the soft voice said: ‘‘Boast not thyself of to-mor- 
row, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth ; lay 
up your treasures in heaven, where thieves do not break 
through nor steal.” 

“ Fool that I was,” continued Germain, not heeding, and, 
perhaps not hearing, Minerva’s words; “not to dream of 
danger. Like a serpent he crossed my path ; like a serpent 
he twined his slimy length around her affections; like a ser- 
pent he fastened his poisonous fangs on the one I love dearer 
than I love my own life ; like a serpent he slinks away and 
leaves no trail ; and like a serpent, by the eternal God above 
me, he shall die ! I’ll follow him to the end of the world. 
He cannot escape me. I will dip my hands in blood for the 
honor of this household, and rid the world of his vile pres- 
ence ! I ’ll kill him ! I ’ll stab him to death, and the dogs 
shall lick his blood from the ground! I have sworn it; if I 
fail to keep my oath, may my name be blotted from the 
memory of those I love, and may my soul sink to endless 
perdition. To-night I leave this place. Frossie shall return 
to you, and Paul Satalia shall die ! ” 

Germain’s voice arose to a frenzied pitch as he uttered 
these words, and before any one was aware of his intentions, 
he rushed from the room, and they saw him no more for 
many weeks. 

Terp was affected almost to tears by the expressions of 
grief around her, and when Germain was gone, said excitedly, 
“I wish I had pitched that miserable little spider, Satalia, 


104 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


into the Ohio river. What a deal of trouble it would have 
saved. 

Weiler, who had been striving, with indifferent success, 
to compose a few appropriate remarks, said : ‘‘ Perhaps it will 
not turn out so badly after all. I have known cases of run- 
away matches that proved agreeable, afterwards, to all con- 
cerned. To endeavor to find them at this late date would be 
a useless expenditure of time and money. Interference now 
would be of no avail. The only really bad feature about it 
is that he was already a married man, as we have learned 
since their departure.’’ 

^^Mr. Weiler,” said Terp, wheeling in her chair and fac- 
ing him, ‘‘will the price of hogs advance next winter, or will 
it be about the same as last winter?” 

Weiler glared at her like an enraged bull. 


CHAPTEE X. 

“alas! for the rarity of CHRISTIAN CHARITY.” 

The two detectives retained by the Graydons to continue 
the search after the missing couple, “ wasted their substance 
in riotous living,” and had plenty of substance as long as 
they were retained. They did not think it worth their while 
to waste time in looking for what they could not find, and 
considered their whole duty the laborious act of drawing 
their pay. They were finally discharged, by advice of the 
chief of police, who was too honorable to allow any man to 
be fleeced by such rascally officials. 

The following, clipped from the County Clarion^ explains 
itself : 

“It is our duty to mention a most deplorable society event, in 
which the family of our most esteemed fellow-citizen, Hon. Nathaniel 
Chadsworth Graydon, are directly concerned. The particulars of the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


105 

case are about as follows: The charming and accomplished Miss 
Euphrosyne Graydon has been the sole possessor of the affections of 
tivG well-known gentlemen of this community. Both loved the charm- 
ing maiden — ‘ two hearts beat as one, ’ so to speak — and it seems 
that the fascinating damsel had the capacity for loving more than one 
gentleman at a time, for she engaged herself to one and eloped with 
the other. Mr. Rudolph Germain is the one whose affections she 
betrayed; Paul Satalia, the well-known music teacher, is the gentle- 
man with whom she eloped. Miss Frossie visited the city of 

on the third of July, ostensibly for the purpose of purchasing a wed- 
ding outfit for her approaching marriage with Germain; but, in fact, 
to grasp a favorable opportunity of eloping with Prof. Satalia. The 
opportunity arrived on the night of the fourth, during the well-remem- 
bered storm that passed over the city on that date. The couple 
adroitly managed to separate themselves from their friends on a plea 
of wishing to see the display of fireworks at the suspension bridge 
across the Ohio River. They were followed by Miss Terpsichore 
Graydon, the careful and prudent sister of the unfortunate girl, who 
watched their every movement while they were on the bridge. They 
conducted themselves in a most shocking manner, attracting the atten- 
tion of many by their incessant billing and cooing. The intrepid Miss 
Terp was just behind them, on the main thoroughfare, but could not, 
on account of the pressure of the crowd, reach the deluded girl, nor 
prevent their estape. She heard them speak of their proposed flight, 
as if it had been premeditated and planned with the utmost coolness 
and precision. He told her that a cab and horses would be in wait- 
ing, on the Kentucky side, at the appointed time; that they would fly 
to a place where no one could find them; that after enjoying a short 
honeymoon, would commence a tour of the world, giving exhibitions 
of their wonderful musical abilities in large towns and cities; that 
they would live so happily together, seeing all the grand sights of the 
Old and New World, and have an abundance of money and an un- 
limited number of good friends among the great musicians. What 
must have been the feelings of that anxious, loving sister, who was 
compelled to listen to the schemes of the designing villain and the 
wayward girl, without being able even to make an effort to save her. 
While the terrible storm was raging they made their escape, remain- 
ing on the bridge until the great crowd had left, then passing rapidly 
to the Kentucky side, where a cab and two white horses awaited 
them; the elder sister, almost frenzied with grief, followed rapidly, 
screaming for help; but they were too quick for her, and, entering the 


io6 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


cab, were whirled quickly away in the driving rain. Miss Terpsi- 
chore, in a frantic endeavor to stop them in their flight, laid hands on 
the rear part of the vehicle, and was thrown violently forward, 
dragged quite a distance along the road, and left in an insensible con- 
dition. Much time elapsed, necessarily, before pursuit was made, 
and, up to the hour of going to press, all efforts to find a clew to the 
whereabouts of the runaways have proved unavailing. But little is 
known of Prof. Satalia prior to his residence in this place. During 
his stay among us his deportment was excellent and his character un- 
impeachable, his rare musical talents making him a most acceptable 
addition to our best social circles. Since his departure, we learn 
from Miss Terp Graydon, to whom we are indebted for the above 
facts, that he had a wife and three children at Nashville, Tennessee. 
In justice to the giddy Frossie, whose rash act has not only taken her 
from the pale of respectable society, but also made a once happy 
home desolate, we state that she was not aware of the existence of 
wife number one, the elder sister being the only one aware of the 
facts, and she obtained them accidentally, only a few days prior to 
the elopement. Not being aware of her sister’s attachment, she did 
not divulge the matter until it was too late. The Clar'ion has made 
it a rule never to drag such matters before the public, but on account 
of the high standing of all persons concerned, we feel constrained to 
make a brief mention of this matter, believing that we voice the pop- 
ular sentiment of our people in extending our heartfelt sympathy to 
the afflicted family.” 

Nathaniel Graydon read the above, and found quite a bit 
of relief for his troubled mind in punching the cranium of 
the vocabulous editor. 

Naturally you will want to know what society said about 
the matter, and the quickest way to give you an insight to 
the feelings of this outraged community will be to cite you to 
the small talk of the Church Aid Society to which Frossie 
belonged. This society met once a month, the meetings be- 
ing held on the last Tuesday night of each month. The 
Graydon girls were not present at the June meeting, but do- 
nated a sum of money to the society which caused them, and 
c.specially Frossie, to become a subject for discussion. 

At the June meeting Sister Tyler said : ‘^Frossie Graydon 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. . I07 

is the sweetest and most generous girl in this community, 
always ready to lend a helping hand and saving all her pocket 
money for charitable purposes. I envy Minerva Graydon 
the possession of such a jewel. Paul Satalia deserves much 
credit for the rapid manner in which he has developed her 
rare musical talents, and as a community we are certainly 
very fortunate in securing the services of Prof. Satalia in such 
a small town. He is a perfect gentleman, and has qualities 
that would make him famous.’^ 

At the July meeting Sister Tyler said: was shocked 

to hear of the elopement of Frossie Graydon and Paul Satalia, 
but it was no more than I expected. Frossie is a girl I never 
particularly admired ; she always had a bad look out of her 
eyes ; and I always regarded Satalia as a loose character. He 
looks like the portrait of a sheep-thief I once noticed at the 
State fair.” 

At the June meeting Sister Jones said: Paul Satalia is 
certainly, a great musician, and has but one rival in these 
parts, and that one his pupil, Frossie Graydon. What would 
this community do without those Graydon girls ? They lead 
in everything, and are so unassuming and lady-like in deport- 
ment. Frossie, especially, is the very essence of all that’s 
good and charming.” 

At the July meeting Sister Jones said : ‘‘This elopement 
is the legitimate result of Frossie’s immodest and unrestrained 
conduct at all times. The two were together most of the 
time, and what better could you expect. She flirted with 
every young man in town, and my eyes ! how deceitful she 
was. What excellent taste she displayed in eloping with that 
vicious Itttle specimen of tarantula, who only had brains 
enough to play on a Squeaky fiddle and elude his creditors. 
Germain is to be congratulated upon his escape from a life of 
misery with that little pie-faced coquette.” 

At the June meeting Sister Smith said: “The Graydon 
girls are spiritually-minded, and the best hearted girls I ever 


io8 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


knew. All last winter Frossie waited on old Widow Scrcg- 
gins, who was so extremely poor and sick, all the time. 
Every morning I could see her pass my house, on the road 
to the widow’s^ with a basket of provisions, and a great many 
times Thalia and Aggie were with her; and when the poor 
old woman died, do you remember what beautiful tributes of 
flowers they placed upon her casket? Frossie is a second 
Florence Nightingale, and as forgetful of self as Lucille. I 
never knew a girl so fascinatingly beautiful who was so thor- 
oughly and completely devoted to the welfare of others ; gen- 
erally such girls are vain and selfish. I do not understand 
how she can be good and at the same time handsome. Ru- 
dolph Germain has indeed found the pearl of great price. 

At the July meeting Sister Smith said: always told 

Mr. Smith that Frossie Graydon was deceitful and would 
come to some bad end. There was always about her an air 
of insincerity and affectation which I do not admire. She 
was always making an outward show of being charitable, but 
she could not have been so at heart. One day last winter 
she passed my house with a large basket which she said con- 
tained a roast chicken and some dainties for Widow Scrog- 
gins, whom she said was very ill, but I investigated the mat- 
ter and found that she had. told me a flat falsehood. I kept 
my own counsel, but looked all over the Scroggins premises 
and alleys, a few days later, and there was not a chicken bone 
to be found anywhere around there. What could I think but 
that the girl had told me a falsehood ? Chickens, even roasted 
chickens, have bones, and the bones are always visible around 
the place where the fowl is dissected. I went to the dwelling 
of Sister Scroggins one day to find out from her own lips the 
proof of the girl’s deceit, but Frossie was there, and, prob- 
ably having discovered that her duplicity was about to be ex- 
posed, had brought a large basket of delicacies on that occa- 
sion, and the widow being too sick to talk, I said nothing. I 
think Germain has escaped a horrible fate; what could that 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. IO9 

dear, good, proud-hearted man do with such a selfish, deceit- 
ful, hypocritical vixen as Frossie Graydon?” 

At the June meeting Elder Robbins said : Speaking of 

the Graydons, reminds me of a circumstance that came under 
my own observation. This spring while I was giving my 
series of discourses on ‘The Exceeding Sinfulness of Sin,’ I 
noticed, every evening during the sermons and the revival 
that followed, that old Ephraim Grubbs was present enjoying 
his religious privileges with his old time enthusiasm. Grubbs 
had not been able to leave his home at any time for a year 
prior to that time, for, you know, he is badly crippled and 
otherwise terribly afflicted. My curiosity was aroused. I 
asked him one evening how he managed to attend church so 
regularly. ‘Lord bless you, Brother Robbins,’ said he, ‘it’s 
the doin’s of them Graydon girls; they fetch me to meetin’ 
every night in a buggy, may the Lord bless ’em, specially 
Miss Frossie.’ And the old man enjoyed himself in his usual 
fervent and devout way during the meeting. Had it not been 
for the Graydon girls, of course it would have been impossi- 
ble for him to have been there a single time. Prof. Satalia 
told me recently that Frossie was the most accomplished 
pianist he ever knew, and you know the professor is a man 
of excellent taste and good judgment. When such men as 
he speak well of any one, you may be sure they have genius.” 

At the July meeting Brother Robbins said: “Notwith- 
standing the downfall of Frossie Graydon, I think the sisters, 
Thalia and Aggie, worthy of recognition. You know, the 
family contribute largely to the support of the church, and, 
doubtless, they all have a predisposition to go astray. I have 
noticed that it runs in families, and this family, probably, 
needs the protection of church influences. Frossie was the 
wildest of the three. She used to bring old Eph. Grubbs to 
church for the purpose of teasing the young gentlemen who 
wished to accompany her, or to share her company at home. 
Such conduct reveals a character that is unworthy of imita- 


I lO 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


tion, and shows that her heart is really bad. As for Satalia, 
he never held an exalted place in my estimation. I am a 
reader of character, and can not be imposed upon. The 
first time I met him I said to my wife, ^ There ’s a colossal 
rogue.’ He wanted to give my daughter instructions in music, 
but I would not allow her to associate with a man upon whose 
countenance was stamped the word ‘villain’ so unmistaka- 
bly. He could n’t teach anything except the rudiments of 
music anyway, and played most of his pieces by ear. His 
praise of Frossie Graydon was, of course, a bait to catch 
patronage. She had learned to play a number of pieces of 
easy music passably well, and because she was handsome, 
some people thought she had great musical talent. I often 
wondered how they got the idea, but did not care to injure 
her by saying so.” 

At the June meeting Sister Aurelia Swinton, a girl of 
about Frossie’s age, said: “Frossie Graydon told me to tell 
you she was sorry that she could n’t attend our meeting to- 
night, and sent a contribution of ten dollars and a lot of 
flowers to be sold in bouquets to the highest bidders. The 
girls are unavoidably absent for the first time. They are the 
very life of all our gatherings, and I do wish they would all 
get married and give us a chance at the men. Frossie is the 
handsomest girl in the world, and just as good as she is pretty. 
Oh, if I could only look out of my eyes as she does I 'could 
make the boys gobble, at forty rods; and such hair, just, as 
soft as satin, and it falls away down her back just like it does 
in a clinging to the cross chromo ! ” 

At the July meeting. Miss Aurelia Swinton said: “ Ma 
says it’s just a warning from Providence, this elopement is, 
and that Frossie Graydon is a living example of social de- 
pravity. She wasn’t very pretty, anyway; her hair was too 
bunchy and hung down like a horse’s tail, and she used 
‘ Ocean Cream ’ to improve her complexion. I never could 
endure her, always flirting and simpering around the young 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Ill 


men, claiming their attention, when they were tired of her 
and wanted to pay tribute to other girls. The brazen thing, 
to pose continually as a model of virtue and propriety, and 
then whisk off with that limber-shanked Italian, when she 
was already engaged to such a noble-hearted fellow as Ru- 
dolph Germain.^’ 

Sister Stebbins, in June : I endorse every’ good thing you 
say about Frossie Graydon. She is an angel, all but the 
wings; and as gentle and unassuming as a child. It must be 
a source of great comfort to Minerva Graydon to think that 
her own sweet Christian character has been so indelibly im- 
printed upon her children.’’ 

Sister Stebbins, in July : ‘‘ It is truly shocking that Minerva 
Graydon could not manage to drill enough gospel truth into 
Frossie to cause her to act differently ; where there is such a 
pious atmosphere at all times, one would think that those 
brought in contact with it would get religion by absorption. 
One can't tell who is a hypocrite and who is not a hypocrite, 
nowadays. And just to think that that vile creature was 
allowed to give Frossie music lessons, month in and month 
out, and no one to watch them. They must have been awful 
wicked all the time.” 

Sister Ruggles, in June: ‘‘It is my good fortune to be 
quite intimate with the Graydons, my husband being a third 
cousin to Mr. Graydon’s first wife. I must say that I do not 
know of a family any where, who are so completely fettered 
to each other. I tell you, it makes me feel that the good 
that came out of Nazareth is bound to fill the world with the 
Spirit of God, when I see filial love and sisterly affection so 
clearly defined.” 

Sister Ruggles, in July: “Yes, it’s just as you say, the 
whole affair looks dark. I told Mr. Ruggles several months 
ago that Minerva Graydon had better watch Frossie, for she 
was always inclined to be rapid, and the girls are all allowed 
to mingle promiscuously with the opposite sex; it’s a wonder 


1 12 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


all of them have not eloped. I tell you most any girl will 
elope if she gets the matrimonial bee in her bonnet. If 
Thalia does n’t marry that odious O’Leeds pretty soon, she 
will be running away with some strolling musician with a 
monkey and a hand-organ. The entire Graydon family are 
deceitful and hypocritical ; but, of course, I would n’t like to 
say so.” 

Sister Ipsillion Helstedtler, in a brief wrangle with the 
English language, in June, said: ^‘Vrossie Gray ton vas a 
goot gairl.” 

Sister Ipsillion, in July: ‘‘Yah, don’t I tole you some* 
dings apout dat gal? petter sday at home mit her fadder.” 

Deacon Strawbridge, in June: “ Frossie Graydon is an 
exemplary character.” 

Deacon Strawbridge, in July: “Frossie Graydon’s down- 
fall is the legitimate result of loose habits.” 

Thus, you see, Frossie had lost caste in social circles. 
When one is up the world is blind to one’s faults ; when one 
is down the world is blind to one’s virtues. A man’s charac- 
ter is often assassinated in the house of his friends, and no 
wall that one builds]around himself is so unstable and so easily 
destroyed as the wall of friendship. Only a very few will 
stand by you in adversity. It is not the people who do the 
largest amount of evil in this world who are punished by the 
immutable decrees of society. It ’s the ones who fail to hide 
their transgressions who suffer most. Great villains are usu- 
ally great diplomats. Society has not learned the art of 
shearing black sheep. Those who have not the ability to hide 
their sins are branded with shame, and the shrewd one may 
“ smile and smile and be a villain still.” The sins of the old 
ewe may be as scarlet, and she may be the heronie of a hun- 
dred suppressed scandals, and still society yields to her wan- 
ton embrace. It ’s the lamb who, in a moment of ecstacy, 
yields to the tempter and reveals her sin to the world, who 
receives bitter condemnation from that leprous virgin, good 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. II3 

society. Your capacity for being wicked depends largely 
upon your ability to conceal the truth and the flexibility of 
your conscience. No man can do evil and be happy, unless 
he can adapt his mind and heart to his deeds and misdeeds. 
Persons who are concerned about such things as a clean 
heart and a clear conscience do not, and could not, success- 
fully play the role of villain in this drama of life. There are 
persons whose moral natures are beyond the microscopic 
vision of the pure in heart, yet, who are able to conceal their 
iniquities. Society is only interested in the surface indica- 
tions of a man’s character; his sins may be dimly visible 
beneath the surface, but the hilarious old virgin does not see 
them. Neither does she dig for diamonds, for society has 
but one sense, the sense of sight. It magnifies everything 
that comes to the surface, and is willing that the evil should 
appear on the surface, but if it does not, the celestial hag is 
satisfied. Society should be a most rigid disciplinarian to lead 
men to the higher walks of life, but it is not. It preaches 
what it does not practice, and many times protects itself at 
the expense of injured innocence. 

Thalia and Aggie could not resume their former way of 
living. Everything was changed; in a twinkling the blos- 
soms of their existence had been laid in the dust. Their 
sorrow was so great that there was not room for anything 
else. As the days dragged wearily by their grief did not 
abate, but seemed to deepen. Aggie wept over a kid shoe 
and lace collar almost constantly, and Thalia carried a satin 
garter in her bosom. They were inconsolable, and Nathaniel 
feared lest the strain on their mental faculties should prove 
too great, or kill them outright. But grief never kills, and 
seldom furnishes a subject for the insane asylum. The future 
seemed to them a hopeless and black expanse, that shaped 
itself in darkness, and was like a barren pathway that leads 
through an unfamiliar country, wherein who travels is exposed 
to constant danger, and where the growl of wild beasts and 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


II4 

the hiss of reptiles strike dismay to the souls .of the timid. 
Frossie seemed with them yet — who have lost their best friends 
will understand. Her presence seemed to be just beside 
them, walking with them everywhere, and yet they could not 
touch her. She was absent, yet present. To understand 
that she was gone, probably forever, or if to return, to return 
in shame, was something they could not realize. The long 
hours, the long days, the weeks, months, and years without 
Frossie — how could they endure it? God help us all when 
our dark days come and our calamity is upon us! We can 
find no peace then, save from the dim presence whom men 
call God. 

Minerva alone stood erect, striving to soothe her distracted 
husband and children. Her face was like a warm sun shin- 
ing through the clouds, scattering life and strength and light 
all around. How beautiful are the feet of those who bring 
glad tidings.’^ She went from one to another of her loved 
ones, beseeching them to ‘Gay their burdens upon the Lord, 
that He would never leave them desolate nor forsake them.’’ 
She suffered intense pain as her white, patient face plainly 
indicated, but no word of complaint ever escaped her. She 
had been a faithful Christian during her life, serving her 
Christ in all things, and with Polycarp, in the hour of misfor- 
tune, could say: “He has never done me the least wrong, 
how then can I blaspheme my King and my Redeemer ? ” 
Complaint from her would have been blasphemy to her mind, 
and so she suffered, and her face became whiter and whiter, 
and her very soul writhed in agony. Nathaniel, after his grief 
had somewhat subsided, began to overhaul his memory for a 
precedent for Frossie’s case. Finally the “Book of the 
House of Graydon” was examined in search of the desired 
information; for Nathaniel’s hobby of “like producing like” 
and “history repeating itself,” left no room for doubt in his 
mind, that somewhere among the branches and twigs of the 
family tree he would find a story of elopement. He found 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


II5 

the coveted precedent away back in an Oriental tradition, 
handed down by his posterity when a branch of his family 
were of nomadic disposition. It was as follows : 

“Miriam, daughter of Sheik Abdallah, was born in the year , 

B. C. As a woman she was tall, beautiful and voluptuous, with 
large gazelle-like eyes that charmed all who beheld her. Hassen Ben 
Kahled, a young man of fortune and esteem among his people, loved 
Miriam against the will of Abdallah, who considered the fair Bedouin 
girl a gift from Allah, not to be given away to ordinary mortals. Has- 
sen did uot despair, but watched the well where the damsels of the 
tribe came for water and there met the lovely Miriam. He told her of 
his love and wooed her from the arms of her father. She consented 
to leave and fly over the desert with him to a place of security. One 
night, at the hour of midnight, Hassen’s nejidee steed stood before 
Abdallah’s tent, and Hassen cried out like a whip-poor-will three times ; 
Miriam came from the tent with her wardrobe in one hand and all was 
well. Upon the back of the fleet-footed steed they sped away across the 
yellow sands. Abdallah pursued but they escaped him, with many a 
cry of defiance. In after years Abdallah was reconciled by the advent 
of a young Arab in the family of Hassen Ben Kahled.” 

Nathaniel read this with great interest, and leaned his 
head back wearily in his chair. By and by he dreamed he 
saw Satalia and Frossie on the back of a coal-black charger, 
clambering at a terrific gait among the crags of Tennessee. 

And the detectives had been following a cab and two 
white horses. 


CHAPTEE XI. 

THE WASP AND THE DAGGER. 

Charleston, South Carolina, is, waS, and will be a great 
city, notwithstanding civil war, earthquakes, and other dis- 
advantages. She was the mother of secession, and the insti- 
gator of a dark and bloody rebellion. It was there that Major 
Anderson, with a handful of sturdy patriots in Fort Sumpter, 


ii6 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


defied the powers of the great commonwealth of South Caro- 
lina, and gallantly endeavored to keep afloat the flag that has 
never been lowered by any nation upon earth. It was in 
Fort Sumpter that the first heroes of the rebellion developed. 
When the gunners rolled their powder into the sea, wrapped 
themselves in wet garments, and covered their faces, in order 
to endure the suffocating heat and smoke from the burning 
barracks, and Lieutenant Hall grasped the broken flag staff, 
walked up into the embrace of death, where shot and shell 
were flying fast, and planted the old flag on the parapet of 
the Fort, where it waved until the supplies of Sumpter were 
exhausted, and surrender enforced. It was there, on that yth 
of April afterwards that a fleet of nine terrible ironclads 
endeavored to annihilate Sumpter, and were targets for thirty- 
five thousand pounds of metal, thrown from rebel guns, 
which did no harm whatever to the great iron-covered sea 
turtles. It was here, on the 21st of August, 1863, a siege 
and bombardment of the city was commenced by the battery 
Swamp Angel.’’ In fourteen months many of the best 
business houses, churches, hotels, stores, principal public 
buildings, and palatial residences were destroyed, and the 
lower portion of the city almost blotted out by shells hurled 
by Yankee gunners. It was here that the defeated and des- 
perate rebels endeavored to injure the Union case by burning 
and destroying their own property, leaving the city in ruins, 
but the devastation of war was in the fulfillment of the ‘‘ hand- 
writing on the wall,” which appeared against that fair city 
when she raised her red flag of treason, with its palmetto tree 
and lone star, in defiance of the properly constituted author- 
ities. The rebellion was a national duel in which the chal- 
lenging parties were badly worsted. The South recklessly 
demanded mortal combat with the North, and the challenge 
was accepted in a way that was, to say the least, enthusiastic- 
ally vigorous. What the South should have found in her 
prosperous days, she raked from the ashes of her ruined 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. II7 

cities, viz : wisdom and unselfish patriotism. It was impos- 
sible for her people to learn the A, B, C’s of human liberty 
until slavery had been abolished. Southern soil was enriched 
by the blood and bones of heroes, but it required a baptism 
of blood to perpetuate the Union. The people of the South 
labored under the delusion that the entire nation was south of 
the Ohio River, and it was absolutely necessary that the peo- 
ple who own the best part of the government should cross 
over and riddle their pet hobbies with psalm-singing bullets. 
The combat was terrible, and the results disastrous, for when 
a divided country wheels into line, and great armies face each 
other with loaded guns in their hands and blood in their eyes, 
something disagreeable is sure to happen. Something un- 
pleasant did happen, and the South kissed the hem of her 
Saviour’s garment. I do not desire to say anything in this 
about her splendid climate, soft Italian skies, of the magnifi- 
cent forests of pine ; of its moss-covered groves ; its towering 
oaks; its lovely jassamines, under whose ‘^bright leaves 
and golden bells ” the chivalric laddie wooes the night-eyed 
lassie, according to precedent; nor of the superb magnolias; 
nor the opaline grandeur of the face of nature, for my mission 
in this chapter is of graver importance, and I shall make no 
endeavor to mislead you by a confusion of introductory 
sentences. 

In this chapter you will lose sight of Southern opulence 
and beauty, and gaze upon the detail of a most deplorable 
tragedy which I am called upon to relate. In doing so I ask 
your pardon. I have evolved many plans whereby I might, 
consistently, leave out the terrible things herein contained, 
but none of them are satisfactory; I am compelled to recite 
them in order that you may read the balance of the book 
understandingly. So averse am I to a recital of horrible 
things that I have several times laid aside my pen with a half- 
formed resolution to abandon the story altogether rather than 
relate the disagreeable facts of this chapter, but my path of 


— y— 


Il8 THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

duty is plain. I cannot entertain you unless I give you the 
whole story, but in doing so I shall spare your feelings as 
much as possible, trusting that you will not read this to your 
children without requiring them to listen to the complete 
story. I never could see a good reason why our daily news- 
papers should publish the sickening details of every crime 
and scour the country more closely for the bad deeds than 
for the good deeds of the people. If public taste is vitiated 
and demands a full knowledge of every crime and the unlimited 
exposure of vice, even that would not justify a supply for the 
demand. If society should demand obscene books and pictures, 
would it not be your duty as a good citizen to do all in your 
power to prohibit the supply ? Has any one a right to feed a 
depraved appetite or passion ? Is it right to pour whisky down 
the throat of an inebriate simply because he wants it ? Is it 
right for a man to open a billiard saloon or a gambling den 
and induce young men to waste their time and money, simply 
because young men desire to waste their time and money ? 
Is it right for men to lead trusting and willing damsels to a 
life of shame, simply because they are not strong to resist 
temptation ? I say no, to all such queries, and I further say 
that it is the duty of authors and journalists to hide sin and 
iniquity, not from the law, but from public gaze. Therefore, 
for the sake of society, I shall in this chapter reveal nothing 
but the hard outlines of some things which might be elaborated 
until several chapters were required to hold it all, and although 
your nervous system may be somewhat disturbed, yet you will 
in the end forgive me and agree that I am justified in giving 
you the facts just as they occurred. 

Night Policeman Thomas Jethro, Esq., was pacing his 

beat on Bay street, on the night of , in his usual slow 

and deliberate way, little dreaming of the terrible event so 
near at hand. He was a tall, stout-looking gentleman, on a 
small salary, and attended to and discharged his duties as 
well as he could for the money. The reader who visited 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. II9 

Charleston, before the war, will remember how beautiful and 
costly were some of the buildings on Bay street. Yonder 
was the Courier office. Near it the Union Bank, Farmers’ 
and Exchange Bank, and the Charleston Bank, all finished 
and furnished with Oriental magnificence. These buildings 
were mutilated by the terrible Swamp Angel,” and the lat- 
ter-day Belshazzars, who failed to read the handwriting on 
the wall, were taught a lesson of deep humility. 

The moon was shining brightly, the hour was late, and 
the street lamps were in full bloom. Jethro’s big ears hear 
footsteps coming; he looks; it is a woman away down the 
street; the woman passes him, and is immediately followed 
by a wild-eyed individual, who brushes past him quickly, and 
seems to be pursued by another man — a tall, athletic young 
fellow. Jethro notices them as they pass, but forgets them, 
almost immediately, as his salary does not justify him in 
keeping wide awake at such a late hour. Presently, there is 
a wild scream. Jethro awakes with a start, hastens back, 
and finds the little wasp-like fellow in the clutches of the 
athletic young man. The stout-looking gentleman has his 
left arm around the body of the little man, and in his right 
hand is a Moorish dagger covered with blood. Jethro hears 
these words, from the man who holds the dirk: ‘^Die, dog, 
and sink to hell ! ” The woman had disappeared, and Jethro 
remembered her no more — how could he afford to on such a 
salary? He placed the young man under arrest, and the 
dead man was laid upon the sidewalk until assistance could 
arrive. The man in custody submitted quietly, and merely 
said that he did not kill the man. The evidence was against 
him, however, and he was locked up for safe keeping. The 
incarcerated man was Rudolph Germain ; the dead man Paul 
Satalia. Had Germain hunted the object of his wrath down 
to the bitter end ? It looked very much as if he had done 
so. On the preliminary examination it was drawn from him, 
that Satalia had stolen his promised bride ; that he had started 


120 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


in pursuit with motives of revenge ; that he had followed the 
object of his wrath for weeks with these evil motives; that 
he had had murder in his heart, but had changed his mind, 
and had concluded to send the deceased to the penitentiary 
instead of the other place. He further claimed that he had 
met Satalia on the streets of Charleston by accident; that 
Satalia did not recognize him, and he followed him for the 
purpose of securing him, and demanding information about 
his lady love; that just as they were under the gas-light, Sa- 
talia made a movement as if opening the front of his coat, 
and immediately plunged the dagger into his own body. He 
(Germain) sprang forward, but was too late to prevent the 
deed ; the man was dying, and had drawn the dagger away, 
and, as he felt that some one was near, had placed it mechan- 
ically in his (Germain’s) hand, where it was when Jethro 
came upon the scene. A woman was there, just at the time, 
who said something in Irish, and disappeared. Germain con- 
tended that it was a plain case of suicide, and asked to be 
released, but no one believed his story, and he was taken 
back to prison to await final trial and judgment. In jail for 
murder ! Oh ! Rudolph Germain, how differently the future 
shapes itself, when we are victims of our own unholy passions 
and cannot follow our better selves through the winding ways 
of virtue. Is it not always best to allow our footsteps to be 
guided by reason, never resorting to wicked and desperate 
measures to accomplish the end for which we seek ? 

The Graydons were informed, in due time, of Germain’s 
misfortunes. Aggie went to him; Thalia went to him; Terp 
went to him; Nathaniel went to him; Minerva prayed for 
him in his lonely cell; O’Leeds went to him, and even Wei- 
ler wrote a note of condolence, which ended by saying, he 
hoped there were no foundations for the charges against him. 
I am sorry to say that Germain’s friends, one and all, thought 
him guilty, as charged, save one, and that one was Terpsi- 
chore. The Graydons were sorely distressed on account of 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


I2I 


this added misfortune; but I know the reader will not care 
to peer into nor behind the screen of their agony at this time. 
You see they firmly believed they had suffered all that nature 
could endure, but this new sorrow was added, and they did 
not die. I think there are many degrees of sorrow and pain, 
and one never knows when he has received the last feather’s 
weight. When a man has the rheumatism, he imagines he 
suffers all the pangs of the damned ; by and by he gets the 
gout and wonders why he thought rheumatism painful. A 
woman has the toothache, and thinks her pain almost greater 
than she can bear; by and by she gets a terrific neuralgia, 
and wonders why she thought toothache so terrible. 

Now, the loss of Frossie was a terrible thing to contem- 
plate, but to think that the generous but rashly impulsive 
young man who was her affianced husband, should stain his 
hands in human blood for her sake, added fresh fuel to their 
burning grief. I can not tell you what they said about it ; 
you are at liberty to make them say anything you please ; I 
can not dwell upon that point. I know that there were many 
tears from the girls ; a great many prayers and Bible quota- 
tions from Minerva; a great many resolutions to stand by 
Germain to the last, by the gentlemen. Terp alone was calm 
and dry. The fool seamstress, about that time, wore a crape 
veil, having been deserted by the bunion doctor, and her 
fondest hopes withered and crumbled to dust; it was never 
definitely known whether the veil was an emblem of mourn- 
ing for Frossie, or the chiropodist, or for Germain. Aunt 
Mehitable was sorely tried by the grief of her friends and her 
own sorrow, and when Germain’s misfortune came to her ears 
she placed her entire fortune at his disposal, if he should need 
it, to procure the best legal advice. 

Able counsel was procured, and Germain was arraigned 
in court, early in September, to answer to a charge of murder. 
The trial was quite brief, considering the gravity of the case. 
The evidence against Germain was clear and strong, although 


122 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


it was of a circumstantial character. Minerva gave, at length, 
the dreadful and threatening language used by Germain on 
the evening of his departure in search of the betrayer; the 
attorney prosecuting the case insisted upon her giving his exact 
words, and, much against her will, she repeated them as she 
remembered them, but she almost broke down as she repeated 
his horrible words, ’ll kill him ! I ’ll stab him, and the dogs 
shall lick his blood from the ground ! ” She retired from the 
witness stand weak and sick at heart. Nathaniel, Aggie, 
Thalia, and O’Leeds, corroborated Minerva’s story, although 
they thought they were sealing the doom of their friend. Terp 
testified that she had, on two occasions, heard Germain swear 
to take Satalia’s life, and she had, also, heard Satalia solemnly 
swear to commit suicide if he failed to secure Frossie’s love; 
but the prosecutor managed to tangle her testimony by getting 
her to tell a great many obvious falsehoods, which, though not 
within themselves harmful to anyone, answered the purpose 
of lessening the weight of her evidence. 

The able attorney employed by the defense offered, in pri- 
vate consultation, to prove an alibi, or to spirit all the wit- 
nesses away, or to prove that Germain was crazy, but that 
gentleman declined with great emphasis. The policeman, 
Jethro, testified that he had found the defendant, at the time 
of the murder, with one arm around the deceased, and hold- 
ing in his right hand a bloody dagger, which he identified as the 
one before him. Defendant was evidently very much excited 
at the time, and was heard to say, savagely, to the dying man : 

Die, dog, and sink to hell ! ” He further said, on cross-ex- 
amination, that an unknown woman was there for a moment, 
but had disappeared, and that efforts had been made to find 
this woman, but no clew to her whereabouts could be dis- 
covered. 

Two things were argued in the case in favor of Germain : 
one was Terp’s statement that she had heard Satalia swear to 
commit suicide, and the other evidence was that deceased had 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


123 


no shirt on at the time of his death. Small things within 
themselves, but they assumed terrific proportions in a case 
where they were wholly relied upon to save a man’s neck, 
against a chain of strong circumstantial evidence. Dickens’ 
Buzfuz arguments faded into nothingness before these eminent 
legal lights, and the ‘ ‘ chops, tomato sauce, and warming 
pan ” of the Buzfuz case were but meagerly mentioned in 
comparison to this missing nether garment. But their elo- 
quence was of no avail, for the opposing counsel proved clearly 
that a man without a shirt on his back was not necessarily a 
suicide, and cited cases where many of South Carolina’s 
prominent statesmen and public men had died natural deaths 
without ever having worn a shirt. 

The end of it was that Germain was convicted of murder 
in the first degree. But no sooner had the verdict been an- 
nounced than something happened in the court room. It was 
this: “ Divil take yez ! ” came in Hibernian accents from 
near the 'doorway, where Bridget Maloney was struggling with 
a bailiff who was endeavoring to bring her into court. 

Howly Moses, did yez iver say sich a dirty blackguard a drag- 
gin’ av a pore widdy woman into coort wid tin little wans to 
kape and niver an idle minute to spare, at all, at all ? How 
could oi hilp sayin the spalpane stick hisself wid a chase 
knife ? ” 

Bridget Maloney stood before Judge Mably, trembling 
like an aspen; by coaxing and threatening, her story was at 
length obtained. 

On the night of the tragedy she was out late, and as she 
was passing down Bay street saw Satalia distinctly, under the 
full blaze of a gas jet, pull a dagger from his pocket and plunge 
it into his own breast. She saw Germain catch him in his 
arm as he was falling to the pavement; saw Satalia force the 
bloody dagger into Germain’s right hand; was only three feet 
away at the time, and could not be mistaken about it. She 
then fled, and being afraid that she might in some way be- 


124 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


come implicated in the matter, kept silent. Her opinions of 
the law and the attorneys were not complimentary, and she 
had a morbid fear that she would some day, in some way, be 
taken rudely from her ‘Marlints.’’ Being an honest woman, 
well known to the Court, her evidence had great weight. 


CHAPTEE XII, 

A REVELATION. 

Bridget Maloney had scarcely finished her story when an- 
other woman appeared on the scene. It was Satalia’s land- 
lady, who had found a letter that very morning written by 
Satalia immediately before he committed his rash act. It had 
been placed upon his bureau and had fallen behind it, where 
it had remained unnoticed until that morning. The letter was 
addressed, ‘‘To the public,’’ on the envelope. It seemed 
more of an essay than a letter, and read as follows : 

“ I have neither friends nor money, nor good health, nor 
sound mental faculties, nor a desire longer to continue a strug- 
gle against odds which were always against me. Therefore, 
it is time to go ; time to leave a world where every man’s hand 
is against me, because I am not built on the right plan. There 
is no pleasure in living when one has played his part and must, 
from necessity,, leave the stage of action. I must die now, or 
die by inches ; my life has been a most miserable failure. It is 
true that I have attained a degree of fame among musicians; 
but what is fame ? What does it do for its possessor but make 
him miserable and discontented ? Earthly happiness is found 
in the gratification of animal passions. Men of fine fiber 
can not prostrate themselves to schemes of debauchery without 
a sense of degradation and shame. The happy and contented 
man is usually a gross sensualist, living on a level with the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


125 


brute creation, and only a little ways beyond the pale of bar- 
barisna. The dying embers of my life will no longer light 
my way nor guide my footsteps. The darkness of death is 
not so dense and cheerless as the darkness of life. The future 
of eternity is not so foreboding and dreary as the future of 
time. Death is at least surcease from sorrow, and the silence 
and sleep which knows not waking, is better than the terrors 
of life. The grave is a place of refuge, when the perils of 
life overtake us and crush us to the earth. Life is a numbing 
pain, made up of moments of gladness and years of agony. 
Death is the surest antidote of misery. I embrace it as 
eagerly as a weary man embraces sleep. There is no hell as 
bitter and burning as the hell of a troubled conscience ; no 
flames so cruel as the flames of remorse. For years my soul 
has been, like a thief in the night, prowling around after the 
substance of other men’s hearts and lives, never daring to put 
on my true colors and appear to the world, black and stained 
with crime, as I have always been. My crimes have been 
against society, and have" been such as libertines usually com- 
mit. My mother died with cholera at New Orleans; my 
father was killed by a steamboat boiler explosion, and I was 
left an orphan early in life. My parents were quite respect- 
able, and I think I would have been a different man had my 
environments and early education been different. I was 
placed in the care of a French woman, who was a painted 
butterfly with gilt wings or something equally heartless and 
careless. She had money, therefore I had money, and plenty 
of it. She held tenaciously to the loose ideas of her nation, 
in regard to virtue and female purity. The harlot crowned 
by Louis Napoleon to rule France, has held imperial sway in 
French society to this day. She was my foster mother’s sov- 
ereign, and right royally did she pay tribute to the scarlet 
queen. Her immoral practices were open to me, and I 
learned, as I grew older, to adopt her theories of social enjoy- 
ment. She had money and ,an abundance of social charms. 


126 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


which, of course, screened her defects of character, and society 
asked no questions. By and by she lost her money and 
health, and I became a wandering minstrel on the streets of 
New Orleans, playing my violin or guitar to any one who 
would listen or give me a penny. My associations were 
necessarily of the worst character, or if not the worst, at least 
low down and vicious. 

‘‘After a while the French woman died, and I was forced 
on the world, alone and friendless, with nothing save my violin 
and guitar. I found employment in the orchestra at a con- 
cert garden, on a small salary. My musical attainments were 
very fine, and I was competent to teach music of the most 
difficult nature, on almost any instrument in common use. I 
suppose my income would have been sufficient to keep me in 
good style, but the trouble came in feminine apparel. I be- 
came devotedly attached to a beautiful actress, and we were 
married. I soon found that the lovely siren who sang such 
entrancing songs from her ‘bed of scarlet roses, ^ had lured 
me to ruin, for underneath her lovely garments were claws 
which she used with energy and accuracy. We lived unhap- 
pily together for many years, during which three children 
were born. My wife could not endure music, and cared for 
nothing save ballet dancing. Night after night I sat in the 
orchestra and saw her appearing before a drunken crowd 
with little or no clothing, except a pair of silk tights. Flesh 
and blood could not endure it, and I became intensely jeal- 
ous. We quarreled continually. One night I went behind 
the scenes and found my wife in the arms of another man, a 
man whom I hated; without a moment’s thought I struck 
him a terriffic blow on the temple with my violin. I fled, and 
have never seen my family since that fatal night. The man 
did not die from the effects of the blow upon his temple, but 
for many months it was thought his reason was impaired. 
My wife afterwards became disqualified for the duties of her 
profession, and was obliged to engage in the hardest kind of 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


127 


manual labor to keep herself and the children, and for a year 
she sent money to me through the mail, for I was for a long 
time not able to find employment. She desired me to return, 
but I would not. I suppose I should have supported them, 
for I loved my children dearly; but when loved ones are ab- 
sent duty is sometimes hard to perform. I have no feelings 
of love or respect for my wife, and care not how much she 
has suffered, knowing that she merits it all. If she wants 

my body she can have it. She lives at No. — , street, 

Nashville, Tennessee, where a telegram would reach her. 

‘‘Since I deserted my family I have traveled from place 
to place, teaching music, and always being admitted to the 
best circles of society — except during the first year after leav- 
ing my family — and sustaining the reputation of a gentle- 
man of leisure among my pupils and friends. Among my 
students were many highly accomplished young ladies, and 
of these some became infatuated with me, and I accomplished 
their ruin in the most heartless way. I was driven from one 
place to another, when an exposure would be made, and my 
life would be in danger, but I cared for nothing save per- 
sonal safety. Oh, mothers, with beautiful daughters, why 
are you so careless in your guardianship, and why are you so 
willing that they shall be exposed to the influences of well- 
dressed knaves ? Beware of strangers who are able to fascin- 
ate your daughters, and give you no proof of excellent char- 
acter ! My last place of permanent residence was in the town 
of L in the state of , where I had a very large num- 

ber of intelligent pupils. Among others were the daughters of 
Nathaniel Graydon, Esq. Of these. Miss Euphrosyne, or 
Frossie, as she was called, was my favorite. She was transcen- 
dently beautiful, the most lovely and accomplished young lady 
I ever met. I tried my blandishments upon her, but the merry, 
light-hearted young girl was not susceptible to flattery, and 
was too honorable to swerve from the path of her duty. She 
was engaged to one Germain, who hated me, and of whom I 


128 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Stood in constant fear. I do not doubt that I succeeded in 
gaining the young lady’s esteem and respect, for she was pas- 
sionately fond of music, and we were together frequently. 
Never for a moment did she love me. My regard for her 
grew upon me day by day, and finally I loved her as madly 
as the sweet poet that came out upon the hills above the 
banks of the Boon loved his ^Highland Mary.’ It seemed 
to me that I could not live without her, and every day she 
became nearer and dearer to me. I could not conceal my 
love, and told her about it. She was kindly sympathetic, but 
told me plainly and firmly that I must think no more of her; 
that she did not and could not return my love. My engage- 
ment with the Graydons ended, and I was not to come any 
more as instructor, but was to be received cordially as a friend 
of the family. I think Frossie thought it was not exactly 
right to receive any attention from me after I had declared 
my love for her, and she kept aloof as much as possible dur- 
ing the short interval I remained in the place. 

met the Graydon girls in the city of in July, 

where they were purchasing wedding outfits for their approach- 
ing marriage. On that occasion I resolved to make a last 
effort to gain her affections, and to woo her from her promised 
husband. Opportunity came on the evening of the Fourth, 
as Frossie and myself stood on the suspension bridge, across 
the Ohio River, witnessing a magnificent Fourth of July dis- 
play of fire-works. The crowd was immense, almost crushing. 
Under pretense of supporting her, I succeeded in placing my 
right arm around her waist, not, however, without protest 
from her. I spoke to her of love, and plead with her in the 
tenderest language I could command, but she did not answer 
me. I urged her to flee with me, but she was silent. I lost 
sight of everything and everybody in my efforts to bring her 
love to me, and away from her intended husband. I thought 
my words had produced the desired effect, but was mistaken, 
and after long and earnest pleading, I was doomed to disap- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


129 


pointment. A storm suddenly came upon us, and the bridge 
was cleared immediately. She darted away from me quite 
angrily, and, being dazed by the awfulness of the storm, ran 
in an opposite direction from which she intended to go. I 
followed rapidly and caught her by the arm, and we did not 
stop until on the Kentucky shore. In a brief lull of the 
storm, as I was struggling with her, she said with terrible 
emphasis : ‘ Paul Satalia, I hate you ! How dare you take 
advantage of the absence of my friends in this way ? All 
my feelings of respect for you are changed to hatred. I loathe 
you ! coward and villain ! ’ 

‘‘Then the slumbering demon within me gained control, 
and I resolved to have her by foul means. By the use of soft 
words I succeeded in persuading her to go with me to the 
house of a friend until the storm should abate; I told her 
this house was a hotel, and so it was, but not in the true sense 
of the term. She went with me down a deserted street along 
the river side, and I told her I was acquainted with the man 
who kept the hotel, and as soon as the storm abated would 
take her back to the city. I intended in that place to accom- 
plish her ruin. No sooner was she inside the building, how- 
ever, than she was seized with a premonition of evil, and 
before any one could prevent, she rushed out into the storm, 
determined to seek assistance. I followed immediately and 
soon overtook her. Then, oh! ye gods! how can I tell it? 
We were in bad quarters, infested by wharf rats and river 
men of -the worst character. This street was never used, 
especially after nightfall, by the better class of people, owing 
to its proximity to the river and its evil reputation. I found 
on the street, which had been deserted before, a number of 
drunken men who were quarreling, just a little way from us; 
a pistol was fired and a ball struck Frossie in the head; she 
was struggling to escape from my grasp at the time, and we 
were under the blaze of a feeble gas jet. With a piteous 
moan she sank to the ground and died almost instantly. Im- 


130 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


mediately I was struck on the head with some hard substance, 
and fell insensible. I have no means of knowing how long I 
remained unconscious, but when I recovered sufficiently to 
stand, I found that the body of the girl had been taken away, 
and that I had been robbed. The street was deserted, and it 
was still raining ; notwithstanding this, I trailed the villains to 
the shore of the Ohio by the blood that flowed from the fatal 
wound. I returned immediately to the house of my friend. 
It was a miserable den, which had been, for years past, a re- 
sort for criminals. Many dark deeds had been committed 
there, but for some reason the proprietor had escaped suspi- 
cion. This was the place into which I had lured the glorious 
girl, and from which she went to her doom. Pen can not de- 
scribe my feelings, for I was satisfied that the men who had 
shot her and felled me to the earth, had robbed her of her 
valuables and thrown her body into the Ohio River. My 
head was terribly bruised, but I dressed it as carefully as I 
could, and forgot my external wound in the agony of remorse. 
I explained the situation to the keeper of the house, and 
promised him a large sum of money if he would hide and feed 
me for a few days. He did so, and although the police 
searched the house, they failed to find me. After remaining 
in the house several days, I concluded to leave, and did so 
one night at midnight. I wandered away into the darkness, 
caring but little about my own safety. I did not take any 
special pains to escape the vigilance of those in pursuit, but 
I did escape. 

One thing has puzzled me sorely : On the day after the 
death of Frossie I was given a city paper containing an 
account of the supposed elopement of myself and the daughter 
of Nathaniel Graydon. The article was quite lengthy, and I 
was surprised to find that Frossie’s half-sister, Terpsichore, 
had been an evesdropper on the bridge, and had heard my 
whispered conversation to Frossie. I was still more surprised 
that she was of the opinion that we matured plans for an 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


I3I 

elopement, and that Frossie was a willing recipient of my 
words and caresses. It is true that I told Frossie that a cab and 
horses awaited for us on the Kentucky side, and that we could 
escape to some secluded spot where pursuit would be use- 
less ; but I spoke falsely for the purpose of hearing an approval. 

I did not receive a word in reply. The account further stated 
that the half-sister followed us to the Kentucky side, saw us 
enter a cab hitched to two white horses, which were driven 
swiftly away. Such an agglomeration of falsehood I have 
never read. I knew that Miss Terp Graydon was an inveter- 
ate falsifier, but do not understand how she could so basely 
deceive those who were, probably, earnestly seeking the lost 
girl. My theory is that Terpsichore Graydon was badly 
frightened by the violence of the storm, and returned to the. 
city without seeing which way we went. I am sure that she 
did not follow us to the Kentucky shore, for, when we reached 
the end of the bridge, the lightning revealed all surroundings, 
and there was no one in sight in any direction. How the 
spinster sister can have a drop of Graydon blood in her veins 
and be such a great liar is a mystery to me. 

‘‘Three times in my lifetime have I tried to commit sui- 
cide ; each effort was a failure, but this time I shall be suc- 
cessful. A dagger shall do the business, and do it well. At 
a late hour to-night I will drink a powerful stimulant, walk to 
some unfrequented place in the city, or to some place where 
the sidewalk is clear, and in the twinkling of an eye the deed 
shall be done. I shall wear no shirt, and strike my bare 
chest in a vital spot, without the risk of the blade being turned 
aside. I think one stroke will be enough ; if one be not suffi- 
cient, then two will finish the deed. I am a desperate man. 
Wherever I go the dead girl rises up before me. By night 
and by day her piteous moan of pain comes to me. How 
beautiful she was in that dark, unlovely street, when the piti- 
less storm beat upon her, and she was dead. To think that I 
Avas the cause of her death ; to think that I was striving to 


132 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


take her away from her mother’s arms, her father’s tender * 
care, the loving hearts of her sisters, and from the life of the 
one who loved her above all ; to think of her now, lying at 
the bottom of the Ohio River with a bullet through her brain, 
food for fish, while her loving friends are, perhaps, searching 
for her everywhere except the right place ; following a cab 
and two white horses, when they should be dragging the bed 
of the Ohio River. Then the faces of my other victims 
crowd around me. They were once happy and honored, 
now they are walking the earth with the brand of shame upon 
them. The voices of my poor children speak to me in mur- 
murs of regret and moans of anguish. Oh God, my punish- 
ment is very great, but I deserve it all. To-night I shall be 
a free man, and I will be liberated from this cursed thing 
called a body. I will enter the place where all men enter, 
but from which none return. I shall pass to that darkness, 
at whose portals the sages and the wise men and the pure in 
heart of all time have stood, pleading in vain for just a whis- 
per from the silence that will not break. A stranger among 
strangers, let me die as I have lived.” 

This epistle was written in a flowing, legible hand, and 
was signed ‘‘Paul Satalia.” The handwriting was readily iden- 
tified by the Graydons. This new evidence produced a de- 
cided change in the aspect of affairs, and was regarded as a 
message from the grave. Germain was released from custody, 
and a telegram was sent to Satalia’s wife at Nashville, Ten- 
nessee, asking if she would have the body disinterred and 
sent to Nashville. To this the amiable spouse replied by tel- 
egram, “I do not want his body; bury his fiddle with him ! ” 
But her request in regard to the violin was not complied with. 
Terp Graydon was so enraged at being called a liar by the 
dead musician, that she sought the inoffensive violin and 
keyed the strings to such a high pitch that they were broken, 
and the instrument otherwise badly damaged. Her father 
cursed her with great fervor and originality. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


133 


Nathaniel Gray don and Gerniain searched the bed of the 
Ohio River, at a point where the body of the unfortunate 
girl was supposed to have been thrown in. They found the 
dead body of a . female in a nude condition, horribly mutilated 
and swollen by the action of the water and from other causes, 
which destroyed a certainty of identification. The hair 
seemed to be the same color ; the body in life had certainly 
been of similar proportions, and many points, the strongest 
of which were that Frossie was missing, and beyond a doubt 
murdered and thrown into the Ohio River. There was evi- 
dence of a gunshot wound in the face. Satalia had said 
it was in the temple, but in the excitement of the moment he 
might have been mistaken. The Graydons, after consulta- 
tion, claimed the body, and it was placed in a magnificent 
rosewood casket and sent to their home for burial. The peo- 
ple of L having been informed of the true inwardness of 

the whole affair, reinstated the Graydon family in their affec- 
tions, and were profusely eloquent in their offerings of con- 
dolence. Funeral services were announced to take place on 
the morning of the day following the arrival of the corpse. 
Do you wonder what was said by the family ? Let me give 
you a few brief extracts of the conversation, on the evening 
before the burial. Minerva was deeply touched, and traces 
of suffering were plainly visible on her countenance, but she 
was the controlling spirit of the occasion. They were all to- 
gether, including O’Leeds, seated in the drawing room. 

‘‘Oh, that my darling should die in that way,” said Na- 
thaniel; “murdered and cast into the dark river, and no one 
to hinder or to help.” 

And Minerva’s thrilling voice replied : “I am the resur- 
rection and the life. Whosoever believeth on me shall not 
perish, but have everlasting life. Blessed are the dead which 
die in the Lord, so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their 
labors.” 


- 10 - 


134 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘‘But, mamma,’’ said Aggie, “how could the Lord allow 
that wicked man to steal our Frossie away?” 

And the soft voice, in the language of scripture, replied : 
“Let thy garments be always white; man knoweth not his 
time ; as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the 
birds that are caught in a snare, so are the sons of men snared 
in an evil time. In the day when the keepers of the house 
shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and 
the grinders cease because they are few, and they that look 
out of the windows be darkened; and the doors shall be 
shut in the street, when the sound of the grinding is low, and 
all the daughters of music are brought low; because man 
goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the street; 
when the silver cord is loosed, and the golden bowl is broken, 
or the pitcher is broken at the fountain ; then shall the dust 
return to the earth as it was, and the spirit unto God who 
gave it.” 

“Oh, mamma,” cried Thalia, “what if we should never 
see sister again ? What if the grave should hold her forever ? ” 

And the soothing voice replied: “God so loved the 
world that he gave his only begotten Son that we might have 
eternal life. Jesus said, ‘I am the bread of life; he that 
cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth in me 
shall never thirst.’ Believe the promises, my daughter, and 
thou shalt be with thy sister throughout eternity. If thou 
dost love the Lord thou shalt see his face.” 

“ Faith in God does not bring our darling back to life,” 
said Nathaniel, gloomily. 

And the low voice replied : “Nay, but it brings us up to 
the life of the soul, to the realm of the spirit. ‘ Be thou faith- 
ful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.’ ‘He 
that overcometh shall be clothed in white raiment.’ Search 
me, oh, God ! and try my heart. Try me and know my 
thoughts, and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead 
me in the way everlasting.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 1 35 

^‘Your Christian fortitude in affliction is worthy of your 
noble self,” said O’Leeds, admiringly. 

And the soft voice replied : My strength is from God. 

Without him to lean upon I should fail utterly in doing my 
duty, as a wife and mother, in this hour, for my own heart is 
sorely tried. I pray daily that the Lord will give me the same 
courage that came to Stephen and caused him to pray for 
those who had stoned him to death ; that caused Polycarp to 
praise God when the cruel flames were roasting him ; that en- 
abled early Christians to swallow melted lead ; to sit in iron 
chairs heated red hot ; that enabled them to endure the pain 
when the flesh was scraped from their bones with shells, and 
yet trust unfalteringly in the God of their salvation. My 
duty is to keep my children close to the side of Christ; the 
rest is with God. I can not comprehend His ways, but I 
know my duty. As my darling stood in that awful storm 
that night, with the evil man at her side, no doubt Jesus was 
with her, and as she was dying, whispered to her softly, say- 
ing : ^ Be not afraid, it is I.’ And oh, I praise His holy 

name that she escaped a life of shame ; that she died with her 
good name untainted, and went to Heaven with a soul as 
pure as the soul of an infant.” 

Minerva Graydon quoted scripture almost constantly, when 
her faith was tried, not always accurately, but always pre- 
serving its beauty. She was a most devout Christian, and 
when she read the Bible, was holding communion with God. 
Christ had said, am the way,” and she did not doubt it. 
She read, ‘‘Let not your heart be troubled,” and when 
trouble came she remembered it. She read, “Thy way is in 
the sea, thy path is in the great waters, and thy footsteps are 
not known,” and when her feet was in the deep places she 
remembered that God had said they should be. She read 
again, “ Whosoever cometh unto me I will in nowise cast 
out,” and she was comforted. She was never satisfied in 
doing less than her whole Christian duty. Like Mary, she 


136 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


would sit at her Saviour’s feet, with her box of precious oint- 
ment, thinking not of self gain, demanding only that she, 
like Mary, might hear her Lord’s voice say, ^‘She hath done 
what she could.” Her influence over her family at this time 
was wonderful, beyond estimate, and of a most wholesome 
character. Some writer has said that ‘‘A woman without re- 
ligion is like a* flower without perfume,” and it is even so. 
Nowhere in the world is the love of God so forcible, so beau- 
tiful, so infinitely and tenderly sweet, as it is when it radiates 
from the life of a good woman. If a woman possesses a true 
Christian character, she has, in every day life, an air of re- 
finement and gentleness which she would not have otherwise. 
To be like Christ, to say the least, is to be an honorable man 
or woman, whose mission in the world is to do good. It is 
extremely appropriate that a mother should possess a sym- 
metrical Christian character, and that she should shape her 
children’s characters in pious moulds, for they will need all 
the help that education and example are able to give in their 
battle with the temptations of this world. Mother’s love is 
more potent if permeated with the Holy Ghost, and what boy 
or girl would miss Heaven if mother leads the way ? Mother’s 
love ! Mother’s God ! Mother’s Bible ! Mother’s Christ ! 
It is these that make home a terrestrial paradise. 

Frossie Graydon’s funeral services were impressive, and 
the floral tributes placed around the dead girl were costly and 
exceedingly beautiful. Society forgave now, for two reasons : 
First, because her innocence had been established, and, sec- 
ondly, because it was attending a funeral. If the body had 
returned home in the bloom of health instead of in a casket, 
it is quite doubtful whether or not society would have for- 
given her. An immense crowd followed the remains to the 
last resting place. Everything having been done that could 
be done, and the dead having been placed by the side of the 
Graydon ancestry, in a most lovely spot, the family endeavored 
to get from under the oppressive load of grief that had for so 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


137 


long a time darkened their homeland made it undesirable. 
Their efforts were not satisfactorily successful, for reasons 
which he will understand who has had the dearest friend 
snatched away by sudden death. All who have buried their 
hearts in the grave will understand why their efforts were 
unsuccessful. Have you been thus bereft ? And were you 
not conscious, at such a time, of an unseen presence ; of a pres- 
ence that you longed to embrace, but could not ? Did you not 
listen with your soul and hear the coming of dead feet and 
the rustle of garments laid aside forever ? Did you not hear 
a sweet voice, dearer than all other voices, coming from some 
place not clearly defined, but hushing the din of the world, 
and thrilling you like the melody of a harp? From the lips 
of the wind it came and went again, and you could not recall 
it. You felt the pressure of fingers that stiffened awhile ago, 
when ‘‘the wheels of life stood still.’’ You felt the burning 
gaze of e^yes that have closed forever. You were alone with 
your dead ; did you not realize it ? Sometimes in turning you 
fancied yourself face to face with your loved one. Some- 
times the dead would place a hand in yours and walk with 
you through the old familiar rooms of your house ; you were 
aware of their presence, but could not quite understand it. 
Communion with the dead — how sweet and sacred! How 
hard to understand ! Who denies the presence of the dead 
among the living, is he who has not lost his dearest friend, 
his heart’s idol, or one who does not love at all, and is only 
aware of the presence of the living by contact and sight. 

Thalia and Aggie tried to be brave and strong, but in 
vain. The best they could do was to partially conceal their 
sorrow from the eyes of sympathetic friends, and to give vent 
to their pent up grief when alone. What comfort they found 
in their father’s counsel and what a priceless boon was their 
mother’s advice. How like a goddess Minerva Graydon 
towered in her family in those dark days. Time alone as- 
suages the sting of death. We cannot stop nor stay the tide 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


138 

of our being; we may chill it for a time, or cause it to move 
sluggishly, but it will move, and as it recedes, it is sure to 
bear our sorrows away and drown them or hide them, where 
in time, if we find them we must seek them. It matters not 
how heavy our grief seems to be, the bitter duties of the 
world are forced upon us, and we dare not linger with our 
dead, lest we are shriveled by despair. So, like the poebs 
pensive maiden in the meadow, 

‘ ‘ We take up the burden of life again, 

Saying only, ‘it might have been.’ ” 

Time was slow in soothing and dulling the bitter pangs 
that filled the souls of the Graydons. One day, nearly three 
months after the funeral, Nathaniel noticed Aggie, at a time 
when she was not aware of his presence. She was weeping 
bitterly, and pressed again and again to her lips a dainty lace 
collar, which she concealed in her bosom when through with 
it. He went softly away unobserved, and entered an adjoin- 
ing room, and there was Thalia crying as if her heart would 
break. Nathaniel was unobserved for the time, and saw his 
daughter take from her bosom a tiny something which she 
kissed many times and wept over as though it was the photo- 
graph of some friend just dead; it was not a photograph, 
however, but a white satin garter. - 


CHAPTEE XIII. 

^‘the light shineth in darkness.’’ 

A bud must necessarily blossom, and all blossoms must 
necessarily lose their fragrance and beauty. The wooing 
time and the days of betrothal is a bud, marriage is a blos- 
som, and the honeymoon is the sweetest perfume of matri- 
mony. Afterwards comes a long stretch of years in which 
honeymoons rise and set no more. This is the business end 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


139 


of the contract, — pleasure first, and business afterwards. 
The honeymoon is Paradise ; the balance of the time may or 
may not be — the other place. I believein natural selection, 
and that every man should have enough good sense to make 
a proper selection when he contemplates matrimony. But 
how can a man use his judgment to advantage against fem- 
inine witchery ? A man might as well try to calculate an 
eclipse of the sun, while a brass band at his elbow is playing 
‘‘The Star Spangled Banner,'’ as to endeavor to use his best 
judgment when the woman he admires is by his side. This, 
as I shall undertake to prove, is correct — that people who 
marry each other, should have congenial spirits, in order that 
married life should be a desirable condition. I am acquain- 
ted with a man, a graduate of a theological seminary, who 
married a lovely and accomplished young lady of my ac- 
quaintance. Knowing her as I do, to be a tender and lov- 
ing creature, worthy of the affections of some man of equally 
strong spirituality, I deem it necessary, for the happiness of 
his household, that he return her love, in a satisfactory way. 
I know, however, that he is unworthy of his trust, for I 
caught a glimpse of a letter he had written her only a week 
after their marriage. I saw only two words; they are these : 
“Dear Katie." Oh, how it made my blood tingle. How 
could a man, and a preacher at that, after only two weeks of 
married life, address his wife so tamely ? If he had said “ My 
Precious Darling," or “My Own Darling Kate," how differ- 
ent would have been my estimate of him and my prophecy 
of his married life. In those two words, “Dear Katie," I 
saw the gulf that yawned between them, and knew that he 
was a cold-hearted individual, incapable of meeting, half- 
way, the warm tide of true love that I knew was reaching 
towards him from the soul of his wife. By and by it will be 

simply“ Kate," and then “Mrs. ," and her love will 

grow less demonstrative ; he will get cross, and she will avoid 
him as much as possible ; he will find fault with every domestic 


140 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


arrangement, and she will tell him he is a brute; he will find 
some dark ewe in his flock who is more social than his wife, 
and she may, in self-defense, receive the attention of some 
sinful brother who has a kindred spirit. Such is often the 
process of married life when the man and woman are not 
mated. Therefore, I say, let the ‘‘mills of the gods” grind 
more rapidly, — I mean the gods of the divorce mills. 
When people get married they are confronted by a condition 
of things; this condition is sometimes blissful and sometimes 
otherwise. A man of business enjoys a wife who can sew, 
cook, mend, and is a good housekeeper. A woman who is 
all on fire with poetry and music needs a husband with a soul 
attached. Nothing is plainer than that congenial souls 
should be united in wedlock, and that opposites should not 
wed if happiness be the objective goal. I think women are 
of much finer fibre than men, and of course more lovable. 
They are sensative and more passionate, and when aroused 
are more dangerous. When you take your feline house pet 
on your lap and softly stroke its back, how gentle and artless 
it seems : doubtless you notice the ermine qualities of its 
paws, and wonder how any one could consider them danger- 
ously pointed. After awhile you notice pussy and the poodle 
in a family quarrel; the cads back is arched, its tail points to- 
ward the polar star in a frenzy of excitement, its eyes are 
blazing, and its claws are more penetrating than the quills of 
a porcupine. In some respects a woman is like a cat ; pet 
her and she is yours forever, act the poodle and you are her’s 
forever. If the husband is coarse, sensual and worldly alto- 
gether, what can you expect of his wife ? She will either 
lower to his level, or learn to endure his presence and to 
smother the dull pain that is destroying her earthly joy ; or 
she will hate him. Some women are made of angel stuff, 
but the good in every character is circumscribed. There is 
a little of God and a deal of Adam in human nature. You 
have seen homes where wealth was profusely obvious from 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 141 

the door-knocker to the attic and yet Adam had full control. 
You have also noticed homes, both of high and low degree, 
whereupon the kingdom of heaven had settled, and the fin- 
gers of God had touched the entire household. Perfect love 
and perfect trust are the elements of connubial bliss, if hus- 
band and wife are mutual possessors. The highest idea we 
have of heaven, is home ; the highest idea we have of home, 
is heaven; and when a man and woman clasp hands and 
start in the winding path together, it is in their power to woo 
the angels from the skies, or the devils from the under world. 
Within themselves are the elements of weal or woe. If they 
are mated, it will be weal ; if not, it will be woe. There is 
no failure so dismal as a domestic failure, and no success so 
prolific of good as a successful blending of two lives in mat- 
rimony. 

Aggie and Thalia did not wed in September. It is more 
than probable that they lost sight of the fact that two young 
gentlemen anxiously awaited their pleasure in the matter. 
The wedding garments, including the ones made for Frossie, 
had arrived in due time, and had been laid aside, and, for a 
time, forgotten. The double wedding having been postponed 
without promise of speedy consideration, Mr. Weiler con- 
sulted Mr. O’Leeds, and remarked, ‘‘To be sure, I respect 
their grief, and all that, but it is sheer folly for them to keep 
up this long-continued strain on their nervous systems.” 

Unluckily for Weiler, Terp overheard him, and said: 
“Dear Mr. Weiler, do not take it to heart so; the girls will 
be all right directly, and I think Aggie will be ready for the 
nuptial knot in time to knit your winter socks and mend your 
flannels.” Weiler scowled like a pirate, but said nothing. 
In December they were very quietly married, in the presence 
of only a few friends, and the two girls entered the domain 
of wedlock in tears. They were thinking of Frossie all the 
time, and wondering if her loved spirit was not present and 


142 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Standing by the side of Germain, who was there, seemingly 
oblivious to all around him. 

Nathaniel was anxious to keep the newly married couples 
with him, but Aggie and Zebulon concluded to reside in the 
dwelling which had been erected for their own special use. 
Thalia was glad to remain with her parents, and O’Leeds was 
too thoughtful of her happiness to raise any objection. Mr. 
Weiler was aware that it would be cheaper to reside at the 
family mansion, and the temptation was almost irresistible; 
but he feared Terp; her bitter tongue was sharper to him than 
a sword. She hated him, and never lost an opportunity to 
display her ill feeling. 

Between O’Leeds and his wife, the bonds of affection be- 
came stronger as time passed away. He was carefully con- 
siderate of her every wish ; always willing to sacrifice his de- 
sires for her pleasure and comfort, and always interested in 
her plans and purposes. How could he fail to retain her 
love? She, happy in his love, and strong in his strength, 
gave him a full measure of that wonderful love that gushed 
from her nature as water from a fountain. 

Zebulon and wife located in a substantial and cozy dwell- 
ing in a pleasant part of the town, with good neighbors and a 
host of friends. They were reasonably happy for many weeks 
after marriage, although the honeymoon did not refulge as 
brightly as Aggie’s poetical temperament desired. I think 
the trouble commenced about three months after their mar- 
riage, in this way : One evening they were seated at their 
card table, and had finished their last game for the evening. 
By way of digression allow me to say they had a card table, 
and, also a family altar; and that Aggie was more fervent at 
family prayers than at euchre. Zebulon’s ideas were that 
cards are harmless, and games of chance harmless, as long as 
money was not used. You are aware that great men need 
their hours of relaxation from business cares, and Weiler 
wanted to relax as economically as possible. But as I was 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


143 


saying, the cards were laid aside for the evening, and Aggie 
seated herself on an ottoman at his side, unloosed her won- 
derful black hair, and laid her head in his lap. The wind 
was howling dismally around the house, and the girl-wife was 
soon in a poetical frame of mind. 

‘‘Oh, Zebulon, there is nothing to me so sublime as the 
voices of the storm. What feelings of passionate grief and 
passionate love come to me in the voices of the storm. It is 
the language of the living and the language of the dead. 
What feelings of awe and reverence fill my soul as the wind 
ebbs and flows, bringing voices from the city of the dead, 
telling of joys departed, of friendships blighted, of hopes that 
withered when the chilling breeze of death claimed its own ; 
voices from loved ones who died all too soon ; voices from 
the cities of the world, telling of shame and misery and 
human^woe; voices of the lambs who have found shelter and 
safety within the Shepherd’s bosom ; voices of humanity, out 
in the storm, crying for help and calling us to earthly vine- 
yards of the Lord.” 

Weiler was amazed at this outburst of what he deemed 
sheer effeminacy. 

“ Oh, Zebulon, I lie awake at night sometimes, when the 
wind is moaning, and can hear sister’s voice sobbing through 
the branches of the garden trees, and ebbing away as weirdly 
as a dream. Oh ! to think that I shall never hear her dear 
voice again, except as it comes in the breeze ; never see her 
bright eyes again, except when I look at the stars ; never hear 
her laughter, except when I stand by woodland streams and 
hear the soft waters rippling over its pebbly bed; never hear 
her whispers of confiding love, except when I stand beneath 
the forest trees and listen to the soft summer winds passing 
by.” 

“ My dear,” said Weiler to his now weeping wife, “wind 
is a mode of motion, an element of force. When a force 
strikes a solid substance, sound is emitted. Thus when it 


144 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


comes in contact with the boughs of a tree it makes a noise 
in accordance with its velocity. Flowing waters contain the 
elements of force, and, coming in contact with the rocks, 
produce a sound, but I fail to detect in it any resemblance 
to the human voice. Your sister’s eyes were a velvety blue, 
and the stars are saffron-hued ; now, how can you see her 
eyes in them? No, my dear, I think your imagination is 
entirely too strong for your own good. Too much poetry is 
not a good thing in a small family.” 

Aggie was greatly shocked at her husband’s lack of senti- 
ment and apparent coarseness, but replied quietly : 

‘^Dear Zebulon, do you not admire poetry?” 

It ’s a good thing in its place, my dear.” 

‘ ^ Where is its proper place ? ” 

On the shelves of book stores.” 

Oh Zebulon, how can you talk so? What would home 
be without a volume of poems under every chair, upon every 
sofa, and in every conceivable place from garret to basement ?” 

‘‘It would undoubtedly present a more attractive appear- 
ance in the way of neatness and order.” 

Somewhat nettled: “Mr. Weiler, do you not admire 
Shakespeare? Everybody loves his writings.” 

“ Never read a line of Shakespeare in my life.” 

“ But surely you are fond of Dante ?” 

“ Pon honor, I am not.” 

“How about Milton? Surely you are familiar with 
‘ Paradise Lost.’ ” 

“ Have heard of the poem, but can’t say that I admire it.” 

“Surely you have read Tasso’s ‘Jerusalem Delivered?”’ 

“Never heard of Tasso nor his poem. Am glad, how- 
ever, that Jerusalem was delivered.” 

“Have you read Homer’s ‘Iliad?’” 

“ Never wasted any time on Homer.” 

“ Have you read Pope’s ‘ Essay on Man?’” 

“Who is Pope? The name is familiar, but I can’t place 
him.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


145 


‘‘Have you read ‘ The Beauties of DeQuincy ? ^ ’’ 

“Again I answer in the negative/’ 

“ Have you read Moore’s ‘ Lallah Rookh ? ’ ” 

“I have not.” 

“ Have you read any of Horace’s great poems ? ” 

“ I once read something written by Horace Mann, but it 
was not poetry.” 

“ Have you read Virgil to any extent?” 

“Indeed I have not.” 

“ Have you read any of the Greek and Syrian Tragedies ? ” 
“Never, never!” 

“Have you read Johnson’s ‘Rasselas,’ a prose poem all 
the way through ? ” 

“Never heard of Johnson, either.” 

“ Have you read Campbell’s ‘ Pleasures of Hope ? ’ ” 

“ Never I ” 

“ Gray’s ‘ Elegy ? ’ ” 

“ Never 1 ” 

“Tennyson’s ‘Princess?’” 

“ Never I ” 

“Arnold’s ‘ Light of Asia ? ’ ” 

“Never ! ” 

“Have you read the Book of Job?” 

“ Never 1 ” 

“Lamentations of Jeremiah?” 

“Never!” 

“Isaiah ? ” 

“ Never ! ” 

“Songs of David ?” 

“ Never ! ” 

“Ezekiel, Moses, or Solomon?” 

“ Never ! ” 

“Have you read Whitman’s ‘ Blades o’ Grass ? ’ ” 

“No; I understand that Whitman is crazy.” 

“ Have you read anything written by any of the great In- 
diana writers ? ” 


146 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘‘ My dear, life is very short; let’s go to bed.” 

‘‘Zebulon, what have you read?” 

‘‘Not much poetical prose, and only one poem. I read 
that when a boy at school ; it was something about a lamb. 
Have read one novel by Roe, some scientific works, and the 
Congressional Globe regularly. I think this is the sum total 
of my literary attainments.” 

Aggie was disgusted and appalled by this revelation; was 
she to spend the balance of a lifetime with a man whose only 
knowledge of refined literature had been wrested from one of 
Roe’s novels ? It was too much, almost, to endure, and she 
was striving hard to restrain optical moisture when Zebulon 
again suggested the propriety of retiring for the night. 

One incident of that eventful evening, when the wife and 
husband entered widely diverging paths, is worthy of record. 
After retiring, when Zebulon was almost asleep, this hap- 
pened : 

“Zebulon, will you kiss me good night?” 

“To be sure, I will — there!” 

The idea of a new husband forgetting to kiss his wife good 
night. Oh ! the brute ! 

I think that was the beginning of the trouble, but it was 
not the beginning of the end. From that hour the husband 
was lowered in the wife’s estimation. She could talk, think, 
and dream of nothing except literature, while he was heavy, 
practical, and devoted to business. She floated around the 
house in a dreamy, listless way, and was out of the body too 
much to be a good housekeeper. He loved order and neat- 
ness in all things. She was interested in things celestial ; he 
was interested in things terrestrial. She was ethereal, and 
saw everything from a spiritual standpoint. His pleasures 
were terrigenous, and his possessions were terraqueous. Her 
soul was fed on ambrosial fruits and cherub nectar; his soul 
and body were inseparable, and were fed upon the same diet. 
When Zebulon wanted to talk about corn and hogs, Aggie 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


147 


wanted to converse about Greek mythology. When he was 
concerned about the crops, she was with Lallah Rookh in the 
‘‘Vale of Cashmere,’^ or with Johnson’s Persian Pricess in 
the “Happy Valley.” 

One morning the wife endeavored to prepare breakfast for 
her leige lord, in the absence of their only servant. It was 
a very good breakfast, too, only the biscuits had a trifle too 
much soda in them, and Weiler said : 

“These biscuits are certainly of mundane origin, Mrs. 
Weiler; poetry and breadstuff should never be mixed.” 

“Indeed! Then perhaps, Mr. Weiler, I had better not 
meddle with culinary affairs hereafter?” 

“It would probably be the correct thing for you to 
either abandon your sentimental nonsense, or leave the 
household affairs in the hands of the servant girl,” said the 
surly boor. 

You see the trouble between them was coming to a head, 
and these words, spoken by him with heat and emphasis, were 
the forerunner of a quarrel. It did not come all at once, 
and as usual both were to blame, although I do not see how 
Aggie could avoid quarreling, or being cross at times, when 
Weiler in his efforts to lower his wife to his own extremely 
practical ideas of domestic life, would give utterance to the 
most exasperating jeers and taunts; but the little woman was 
very brave and managed to conceal her rebellious spirit from 
the gaze of the outside world. Even Terp was a whole year 
in finding out the true state of affairs. It came to her in this 
way : One evening, while making a friendly call, having 
goaded Weiler to a frenzy, she was serenely striving to draw 
him' to the point of profanity, at which place she always drew 
the line. 

“My dear Mr. Weiler,” she said, “what a fortunate 
thing it is for yourself and wife that your temperaments are 
compatible. How many domestic difficulties develop simply 
because of incompatibility of temperament. When you were 


148 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


married I said to myself, ^ How fortunate Aggie is in secur- 
ing Mr. Weiler for a husband.’ Says I, ‘She is passionately 
fond of literature, and Zebulon is so poetical and classical in 
disposition, that they will enjoy wedded life with commensu- 
rate zeal’ ” 

“Indeed,” Zebulon replied, “I am highly flattered with 
the interest you manifest in my welfare; but perhaps you are 
mistaken as to the mutuality of our literary proclivities.” 

“ Certainly not, Mr. Weiler. On the occasion of your 
wedding, I said to poor dear Germain, who has never smiled 
since the day he lost Frossie, says I, ‘ Weiler is an intel- 
lectual giant,’ but he only laughed, and said, ‘Weiler is a 
fool; just like an oyster, content to exist without knowing 
why.’ ‘ Oh no,’ says I, ‘ I am sure Zebulon is a gentleman of 
great refinement, only he is so modest he will not reveal it to 
the vulgar gaze of the world. Modesty, you know, is an ev- 
idence of greatness; still waters run deep, and you know 
that some of the most eminent men the world ha? produced 
have been shy, awkward, excessively modest in personal ap- 
pearance, and repulsive in conversation.’ ‘No, no,’ says I, 

‘ if a man be as hopelessly flat as a turtle, mellow as a clam, 
or unattractive as a porcupine, it is not proof that he is intel- 
lectually dull or stupid. Such a one may possess genius of 
the highest order, and be like the king’s daughters, all glori- 
ous within.’ ” 

“Do you mean to insult me in my own house?” cried 
Zebulon, very red in the face. 

“I never dreamed of such a thing, Mr. Weiler, but was 
simply trying to pay you a merited compliment that your 
wife might feel prouder and happier over the treasure she 
garnered at Hymen’s altar.” 

“As for my wife, she is my personal and private prop- 
erty, and — ” 

“At least you have a chattel mortgage on her,” inter- 
rupted Terp. 


thp: house of graydon. 


149 


Weiler continued, frowning f^rcely : ‘‘She shall obey 
me in household matters. On that point I am determined. 
A woman who is about to become a mother, I think, should 
regard it her imperative duty to impress upon her offspring 
what is useful and practical.” 

“That’s true,” said Terp, benignly; “early impressions 
are lasting; but what would you do in order that your pos- 
terity may inherit the intellectual and spiritual strength of 
paternity?” 

“In order that my child should be a useful citizen,” 
snapped Weiler, “ I would burn every volume of poems in 
the house, destroy every novel, and all books of a light and 
trifling character, smash the piano, take the pictures from the 
walls, and hide the gaudy ornaments so that my child’s first 
impressions should be that life is real and earnest.” 

“ And the grave is not the goal ?” added Terp. 

“ As I was saying,” continued Zebulon, “my wife is my 
private and personal property — ” 

“ Beast ! idiot 1 puppy ! ” cried Aggie, who, until now, had 
been a silent listener; “I despise you, and curse the day I 
first met you ! ” 

And the spirited beauty flounced out of the room, locked 
herself in her library, and had a good cry, all to herself. 
Terp said : 

“Are you sure, Zebulon, that your wife is your own per- 
sonal and private property?” 

You see the breach was becoming wider and wider, as the 
days passed along. The butterfly had turned upon the one 
that sought to mutilate its beautiful wings, and the wife hated 
the husband as intensely as she had once loved him. Per- 
sons who love without limit, can hate with equal abandon. 

After awhile the baby came, and Aggie knew that it was 
the very sweetest, darlingest little cherub in the whole world. 
Aunt Terp said so; Aunt Thalia said so; Uncle Tiberius said 
so; grandpa said so; grandma said so, and everybody said so 

— n- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


150 

except Weiler ; that individual had had no experience with 
babies, and was struck with terror at the disadvantages of 
having a new baby in the house, and the additional expense 
in consequence thereof. He grumbled because it was not a 
boy — not that he admired boys, but because he thought them 
less expensive than girls. If he had had control of the mat- 
ter, the entire population of the globe would be of the male 
persuasion, and each child would be sixteen years of age at 
the time of birth. 

Not long after the addition to the Weiler family, Thalia 
gave birth to a bouncing girl, and Tiberius O^Leeds was quite 
silly for a time. Terpsichore was distressed on account of 
the advent of this child, because, she said, it will be just as 
she predicted, the house would soon be full of children. Six 
months later she said, in a spasm of disgust: ^^Dear me, 
how I dislike babies, the little puky things. What a nuisance 
Thalia’s baby is to be sure, crying half the time and spewing 
milk the other half. When I see Thalia trundling a baby 
cab down the walk, with a grip-sack full of diapers always at 
hand, looking so much like a born slave, I am almost tempted 
never to get married.” And she shook her gray curls with 
great firmness. 

Aggie’s affections twined around her child, and all the 
wealth of her soul belonged to the baby; it did not bring the 
husband any closer. He never seemed to care for the child, 
except to know that it was properly clothed, that is, he allowed 
his wife a certain amount of money for its clothing. His 
inattention to the child caused the mother to dislike him more, 
if possible, than ever. She had learned one way to master 
some of Zebulon’s ideas of domestic economy. As I have 
said, he stood in mortal fear of Terp; for instance : 

Mr. Weiler, please stop at the store to-day and get me 
a pair of six-button kids. My old ones are shabby.” 

‘^Mrs. Weiler, allow me to say that I will do nothing of 
the kind. The gloves you have are good enough. I do not 
believe in wasting money in that way.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


151 

‘‘Mr. Weiler, will you please stop at father’s as you go 
down, and tell Terpsichore I want her to spend the evening 
with me?” 

The gloves were forthcoming, but Terp was not. 

Again: “Mr. Weiler, will you stop at Mrs. M ’s 

millinery store to-day and pay her for the bonnet I have 
selected? The one I was looking at yesterday. Tell her to 
send it to me this afternoon, as I purpose using it this evening.” 

“Mrs. Weiler, I will do nothing of the kind. You shall 

• not squander my money in that way. This reckless extrava- 
gance must cease.” 

Aggie penciled a few lines upon a slip of paper and gave 
it to him. 

“Will you please hand this note in at papa’s? It is for 
Terp.” 

On the way to his business Weiler read the note, it said : 
“ Dear Terpsichore. — Please call this evening and take tea 
with us.” 

The bonnet arrived in due time, but Terp did not. 

“Mr. Weiler, will you stop at D.’s book store and get me 
the new book, ‘ Half Hours with the Great Poets ’ ? ” 

“Never, Mrs. Weiler, never! not another penny of my 
money shall be invested in such trash.” 

“Mr. Weiler, will you please inform Terpsichore that I 
shall expect her to dine with us to-day ? ” 

“ Half Hours with the Great Poets” was added to Aggie’s 
library that day, but Terp did not dine with them. 

So, you see, our little woman was quite a diplomat, in her 
way, and was shrewd enough to supply her every need, and 
outwit a miserly husband, who was fast becoming a mono- 
maniac on the subject of household economy. But I am 

• sorry to say that her constant combat with carnal minds tem- 
porarily damaged the gentleness of her spirit, and did much 
to hide the poetry of her nature. 


152 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


CHAPTEE XIV. 

‘‘and the darkness comprehendeth it not.” 

When baby Weiler number one was about two years of 
age, baby Weiler number two made its appearance. It was 
a boy, much to the gratification of Mr. Weiler. Having de- 
termined to keep his expenditures down to a limited amount, 
he was anxious to curtail and economize to a greater extent 
than ever after the advent of baby number two, and became 
almost brutal in his home life. What a hell on earth is a 
home where the husband and wife are at swords’ points and 
the ferine qualities of human nature out-general the best 
judgment and best desires of the heart and brain. 

One day when number two was about six months old, 
Zebulon was unusually surly and abusive to his wife. They 
quarreled at breakfast and at the dinner hour. During the 
afternoon Aggie quietly set the house in order, discharged 
their only servant, and penned the following note, which she 
left where her husband would be sure to find it : 

“Mr. Weiler: Henceforth we dwell apart. I will no longer 
consent to be your slave. I will no longer associate with a man 
whose instincts .are so narrow and brutal. I and my children will 
live with my parents. It will be useless for you to follow. I will not 
return. Agalaia Weiler.” 

A very trim little party of three, consisting of a bright- 
eyed, black-haired little woman and two babies, arrived at 
the Graydon place late in the afternoon, with the avowed 
purpose of making it their future home. Aggie recited her 
story with thrilling effect. Minerva was deeply grieved, and 
Nathaniel registered an oath to thrash Weiler on sight. The 
domestic difficulties of the unhappy pair had been so well 
concealed by the courageous daughter that her father and the 
family did not know to what extent the husband and wife were 
estranged. It is true that their troubles were not altogether a 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


153 


secret, and a decided coolness had sprung up between Gray- 
don and Weiler, but Nathaniel was not aware of the insuffer- 
able and brutal ways of his son-in-law until Aggie fled to him 
for protection. 

It will never be known exactly what Zebulon Weiler 
thought or said when he found his wife’s note, his nest empty 
and the birds flown. That his wife could beshrew him was 
beyond his comprehension. I suppose he thought she should 
be willing to endure his surly mood and selfish ways during a 
long lifetime, without complaint; and for the first time he re- 
alized that he was in the condition of the canine who had 
been ’^barking up the wrong tree.” Now, the people would 
talk, and the littleness of his character would be revealed. 
He was in great despair, but his opinions of himself, and his 
ideas of domestic economy, were but little changed. He 
was sure his wife was in the wrong, and blamed himself only 
for not being shrewd enough to know that long continued do- 
mestic asperity will end always in much the same way, to wit : 
in violence and separation. 

But he was determined not to lose his wife and babies ; 
and, being a prudent man, and well acquainted with Nathan- 
iel’s temerity of action, when aroused by real or fancied insult 
or injustice, wrote a lengthy letter, rather than hazard his 
anatomy in close quarters. This letter was addressed to Na- 
thaniel, and sent by a small boy. In it he claimed that he 
was not altogether responsible for the present state of his 
wife’s feelings, and hoped the friends concerned would ‘‘sus- 
pend judgment until they had listened to his side of the 
case.” On the morrow he would call and see if the matter 
could not be adjusted without publicity. On the morrow he 
presented himself at the Graydon mansion, and was not cor- 
dially received. He was allowed audience with only Na- 
thaniel and Minerva, and noticed, with alarm, that the former 
held a stout cane in' his hand, and wore heavy boots, which, 
though nicely polished, were double- soled. It makes con- 


154 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


siderable difference to a man who is liable to get kicked, 
whether the prospective kicker wears double-soled shoes or 
not; and Zebulon was decidedly nervous as he entered the 
house and seated himself in a position where he would have 
a fair chance at the door in case of necessity. 

‘‘Zebulon Weiler,” said Nathaniel, with a bitterness he 
did not try to conceal, “ you are here on a fool’s errand, and 
you have disgraced yourself and my family. I know the en- 
tire truth of the matter, and had I been in possession of the 
facts at the proper time, my daughter would have left you 
long ago. You have acted more like a brute than an honor- 
able man, and you are a puppy, sir, a contemptible puppy ! ” 
And the stout cane thumped the floor with an energy which 
made Zebulon quake with terror. 

“My dear sir,” cried he, fawningly, “there has been a 
great misunderstanding, a very grave misunderstanding, and 
I assure you that it is not altogether my fault. I acknowledge 
that I am somewhat to blame for the condition of things, but 
not altogether ; will you hear my explanation ? ” 

“Thee must state thy case, and state it plainly,” said 
Minerva, quietly but firmly. 

“Thank you. To begin, I will state that I am a man of 
strong convictions, and love neatness and order above all 
things in domestic life. My wife is just the reverse.” 

“Sir?” said Nathaniel, holding his cane threateningly. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Zebulon, hastily. “I hardly 
know how to tell the story without telling it all. It is my 
habit to make a memoranda, or diary, of household events, 
in order that I may regulate my household affairs advisedly 
and correctly. I will read, with your permission, a few 
extracts from my notes, so that you may see how my house- 
hold affairs have been managed. 

“ Feb. I St : Came to dinner very tired. Found the house 
cold, and my wife and children visiting a neighbor’s. 

“Feb. 2d: Came to dinner at 11:30 A.M.; found my 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


155 


wife on a sofa reading a novel, by Diderot. The room was 
in great confusion. The oldest child, Frossie, had smashed 
the mandoline on a cuspidore, at a cost of ten dollars and 
more. Asked Aggie why she did n’t care for the child, and 
tidy the room ; said she had been bothered with the child all 
morning, and did not care if it broke everything in the house 
as long as it did n’t squeal. 

Feb. 3d : My wife is very cross to-day; has called me 
a brute three times, a beast twice, and a crocodile once. I 
think she intends asking me for money; if she does, I will 
refuse. 

“Feb. 4th: Baby had the croup last night. Succeeded 
in getting it to vomit, and it was greatly relieved, but my wife 
insisted upon having a physician anyway. Was compelled to 
go out at midnight and search the town for medical aid. 
Doctor came, examined child, and pronounced it out of dan- 
ger. Dead loss of two dollars, besides loss of sleep and great 
inconvenience. 

“ Feb. 5th : This was a rough day in the family. Brought 
three friends home to dine with me. Found my wife in the 
reception room flat on a lounge, writing a poem on ‘ When 
the leaves begin to bud.’ She was in shabby negligee^ so ob- 
livious to her surroundings that she did not notice our en- 
trance. One of her slippers lay upon the floor, and her dress 
being disarranged at the bottom, exposed a shockingly dirty 
pair of stockings, and the foot of the slipperless one was full 
of holes. Her front hair was in papers, and the bosom of 
her dress open, just as the child had left it. Altogether she 
presented a shockingly untidy appearance. Of course I could 
not control my temper, for I do not care to present my wife 
to friends en dishabille, and told her so. Quarreled the bal- 
ance of the day at every opportunity, and will probably quar- 
rel all night. 

“Feb. 6th: To-day my wife wrote a poem entitled 
‘ Evening Bells.’ Every line begins with ^ Oh,’ and the baby 


156 THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

was yelling all the time with a pin sticking half way through 
its leg. Would have quarreled over it, but Terpsichore came 
down to spend the afternoon and evening. 

‘‘Feb. ytb: Returned to the house at 10 o’clock a. m., 
and found Aggie making herself up for the day. The oldest 
child was playing with the French clock, or what was left of 
it; as I came in she was thumping it vigorously with a pair 
of tongs, and crying ‘ Boo ! boo ! ’ My wife’s hair switch 
hung on the back of a chair, and I noticed a fine rug almost 
on fire and smoking badly. Examined it, and found a red- 
hot curling iron, seized it, threw it out of doors, and said 
damn it. Wife said it was too hot for use, and had laid it on 
the rug to cool. Said the baby was cross, and had given it 
the clock to keep it quiet. Rug and clock ruined. Swore 
again. Cost enormous. 

“ Feb. 8th : The Misses B. and C. made a social call this 
afternoon; was at home, invited them into the parlor, my wife 
being up stairs. Miss B., who is a timid creature, and quite 
stylish, walked over to the sofa and seated herself with great 
dignity. Sprang up instantly, yelling like a Comanche; had 
seated herself on a black and tan terrier, which Aggie insists 
on keeping in the house. Wife came in and said, ‘ Poor 
doggie ! ’ Was dressed in anything she could find in a 
hurry. Ladies left abruptly, and will probably not be friendly 
for some time. 

“Feb. 9th: My wife poked a green painted card into 
the parrot’s cage this morning. At noon Polly was dead. 
Do not regard its death altogether accidental. I was very 
fond of the parrot. 

“Feb loth: Mrs. Weiler carelessly left a twenty dol- 
lar muff on the parlor floor this a. m. The terrier found it, 
and chewed it until it was entirely ruined. Told Aggie what 
the dog had done, and she said, ‘ Poor fellow ; perhaps he 
was hungry ! ’ Will hire a man to shoot the dog to-morrow. 
Can’t stand it much longer. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


157 


‘‘Feb. nth: Found my wife, at noon, reading Edgar 
A. Poe’s ‘Gold Bug.’ The babies were yelling lustily, and 
the room was in a state of confusion. Shoes, stockings, 
baby underwear, and many other things were strewn around 
over the floor. Her bare elbows were actually sticking 
through holes in her sleeves. Asked her why she did not 
have the room placed in proper shape, and she said she 
had a’t noticed anything being out of shape or presenting an 
untidy appearance. 

“Feb. 1 2th : Terpsichore called early in the morning to 
stay all day. Dined up town, and did not come home until 
after bed-time. 

“Feb. 13th: Found cat hairs in the buscuit this morn- 
ing; wife scolded the hired girl about it, and girl left for more 
congenial quarters. Wife said she would do the cooking for 
awhile. Thought it was a good idea until dinner time. 
After dinner found another cook. No serious outbreak is lia- 
ble to odcur before morning. 

“ Feb. 14th : Entered the nursery to-day, and was aston- 
ished to find my finest suit of clothing — a broadcloth suit, 
just from the shop — in very bad shape. My wife had made 
a stuffed paddy of it, placed it in one corner, and put my silk 
hat on the top of it. Asked her what it all meant, and she 
said it was baby’s valentine. It was roughly handled and 
was smeared with milk and sewing machine oil. Oh, ye 
gods, how long will this thing continue ? 

“Feb. 15th: Mrs. Weiler informed me to-day that she 
intended to publish a volume of original poems, and showed 
me the title page, ‘ The Soul of the Asphodel, and other po- 
ems, by Mrs. Agalaia Graydon Weiler, author of many un- 
published works.’ She said the most difficult thing about 
publishing a book was to sell it, and that she intended to give 
the first edition away to members of her International Lit- 
erary Society,* that they all expected a gratis copy, and it 
would probably place the second edition on the market. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


158 

Asked her how much the first edition would cost. She said 
about six hundred dollars. Asked her where she intended to 
get the money, and she said she had a husband who was 
able to foot the bill. Told her not by a d — n sight. She 
said if I wouldn’t her papa would, and told me to bring her 
a package of lead pencils from the book store, as she wanted 
to finish her poem, ‘The White Rose of Sharon,’ that after- 
noon. Told her I would not spend a cent on her silly book. 
Told me to stop and invite Terp to spend the evening at our 
house. Blamed if I will ! 

“ Feb. 16 : Found my wife to-day in the parlor shivering 
with cold, and in a most deplorable condition, seated in a 
large arm chair; hair down and disheveled, wild-eyed, and 
with an awful goneness about her general appearance. Asked 
her if she was sick, and she simply said, ‘No!’ pulled her 
shabby morning gown about her, and resumed her abstracted 
and out-of-the-flesh appearance. Demanded an expiation of 
her singular conduct, and found that she was composing a 
poem entitled, ‘The Minstrel’s Curse,’ written for the pages 
of the ‘Soul of the Asphodel.’ 

“Feb. 17: Mrs. Weiler accompanied me to the opera 
this evening. She was absent-minded, and, in seating herself, 
sat plump down upon my friend Jones’ plug hat. Instead of 
apologizing to Jones, as I supposed she would, she snatched 
the tile from the seat and flung it up the aisle, with manifest 
ill-humor. Jones turned as red as a beet, but said nothing. 
When at home again, I asked her how she enjoyed the opera. 
Said she could n’t recollect much about it, as her mind was 
wholly occupied with the poem she was writing, to be called, 
‘The Collar She used to Wear ! ’ and to be a part of the ‘Soul 
of the Asphodel.’ 

“Feb. 18th: This has been a gloomy day. The hired 
girl is sick, and the house is turned upside down from cellar 
to garret. Was obliged to order dinner from a restaurant, 
while my wife was trying to find a proper word to rhyme with 


THE HOUSE OF (TRAYDON. 


159 


magnolia. She could n’t find it, and was very cross. Had 
to wash the dinner dishes, and feed the babies with a spoon. 
At supper time found the rooms still unswept, the beds still 
unmade, my wife still wearing her morning gown, and the 
hired girl too sick to prepare supper. Asked Aggie to get 
our evening meal ready; said she had n’t time. Asked her 
what she was doing ; said she had just finished her poem enti- 
tled, ‘ The Cosmorama of the* South Winds,’ and had a stanza 
written on another poem, to be called ‘ When the Swallows 
Cease to Twitter,’ both poems to be a part of the ‘Soul of the 
Asphodel.’ Asked her how long this state of affairs would 
exist, and she said probably six months. Asked her if she 
thought I was a fool, and she said yes. I swear by the eter- 
nal gods this idiotic business must stop. I will submit to it no 
longer. This is my house, and I shall assert my rights ; my 
wife shall understand that I am master and ruler of my own 
household.” 

“Hold on, Mr. Weiler!” interrupted Nathaniel ; “you 
struck my daughter, next day, according to her testimony ; 
you struck her like the dog you are, and you shall smart for 
it.” ■ 

“Indeed, I did not strike her,” cried the terrified Zebu- 
Ion, who noticed that his father-in-law was preparing for 
action; “it was this way: we were quarreling, and she, in a 
frenzy of excitement, threw a tin full of cold tea in my face ; 
unthoughtedly I endeavored to wrest the tin from her grasp, 
and in doing so she struck her arm against the wall ; I am 
heartily ashamed of the whole affair, but I can show you by 
the remainder of my diary for the month of February, that 
my domestic affairs were badly disarranged by my wife’s lite- 
rary pursuits ; that she was completely addled after commenc- 
ing to write and compile her book of poems ; that my house, 
which I aimed to present a tidy and comfortable appearance 
at all times, was constantly in a state of disorder; that my 
wife neglected her children and disregarded the wishes of her 


i6o 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


husband, in order that she could write sentimental stuff and 
nonsense, for people who are made of mouse stuff, and have 
no part in the business affairs of the world. As I said, I am 
a man of business, and a man who loves order and — ” 

And said Nathaniel, am a man of muscle, and one 
who can defend the honor of his family, d — n you — 

Mr. Weiler sought safety in flight, and fled through the 
door precipitately, but not before Nathaniel had succeeded in 
planting a substantial kick in Zebulon’s dorsal regions. Mr. 
Weiler’s Homeric bellow sounded like that of a mad bull of 
the pennyroyal persuasion. 

Minerva interfered, and Nathaniel was soon under con- 
trol, and heartily ashamed of the manner in which he had 
conducted himself in the presence of his wife, for he was 
more concerned about retaining the esteem and respect of his 
wife, than he was to keep himself spotless in the eyes of the 
world. When his anger had somewhat subsided, he sought 
the Book of the House of Graydon,” and searched fora 
precedent for the conduct of his daughter. All along the line 
of Drivers he could find quarrels and divorces. Along the 
line of Graydons he found several cases of domestic infelicity, 
as he did, also, among the Eldridge’s, but none seemed ap- 
plicable to the case. Away back somewhere among the 
branches of the family tree, he found the following : 

“ Zerelda, daughter of , dwelt in the tent of Ben Hadad; 

milked the goats of Kedar, and made butter in a skin churn. Ben 
Hadad entered his tent one evening and asked the tender-eyed Zerelda 
for a drink of goat’s milk wherewith to slake his thirst, but Zerelda 
brushed her night-flowing tresses aside and answered softly, ‘ Are not 
the children of Ben Hadad of more concern than the father, and 
what with shall they quench their thirst if thou dost drink first from 
the churn ? Ben Hadad was wrath, and said, ‘ go to,’ and seizing the 
churn drank the children’s food from it until it was empty. Zerelda 
in her wrath smote Ben Hadad upon the skull with a wrinkled water 
skin, and he wailed in bitterness of spirit. By and by, he arose in 
anger and left his tent door forever. Gathering together his men 
servants, and his maid servants, and his oxen, and his asses, and his 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


l6l 


camels, he went his way into a far country. Zerelda was left alone 
in her tent, and was many years desolate. Her food was milk from 
the goats of Kedar and wild honey, and her clothing lamb’s wool and 
goat skins.” 

‘^Thus history repeats itself in all families,” said Nathan- 
iel, as he replaced his precious book in its proper place. 

Minerva’s influence was exercised to its fullest extent in 
this unhappy affair. Her zeal and good sense prevented a 
separation, and saved them from exposure. Aggie was com- 
pletely humbled, and returned to her home in tears, resolving 
to do her whole duty as a wife and mother, which she did. 

Zebulon was aware that his reputation was at stake, and, 
being determined to maintain his standing in the community, 
was careful not to arouse his wife’s anger by brutal treatment. 
I once noticed, in a menagerie, a den which contained a 
bear and a leopard. They had been trained to live peace- 
fully together, but did so under protest. Such was the con- 
dition of Weiler and his wife. Minerva gave them a large 
share of her attention, and the warm-hearted daughter was 
ever willing' to be guided by mother’s counsel. So I think 
they could have lived together peacefully, or at least so quietly 
that the world would never know of their differences for a 
long number of years. But one day Mr. Zebulon Weiler was 
mixed up in a railroad accident, and had his fool head mashed 
from his shoulders. 

Thus Aggie was left a pensive widow. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

AN OBJECT LESSON. 

On the fourth day of July, in the year of our Lord i8 — , 
in the evening of the day aforesaid, a pilgrim stood on the 
banks of the Ohio River, in a dreamy, uncertain kind of 
way, dimly conscious that he had been, and was even then. 


i 62 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


celebrating the national holiday with too much enthusiasm and 
patriotic intensity. The marks of inebriety were plainly visi- 
ble on his otherwise handsome countenance, and the indica- 
tions were that his Fourth of July celebration was but the 
continuation of a perennial and progressive state of intoxica- 
tion. The end of to-day’s drunk was, with him, the begin- 
ning of to-morrow’s drunk, and the continuity of his efforts 
to attain unattainable heights of bliss via the jug route, had 
been surprisingly brilliant and tenaciously zealous. 

When all the joy of this life has simmered down into a 
gutta percha flask, and human bliss can be corked up and 
stowed away in one’s pistol pocket; and one can obtain hap- 
piness, fame, good cheer, riches, honors, warm friendships, 
and the Spartan fires of patriotism, by simply pulling the 
stopper out, then, according to his philosophy, one would be 
a fool to decline the proffered offerings of Bacchus. If a 
man pickles himself in French brandy and Holland gin, his 
intellectual faculties are sure to ripen morbidly, and every- 
thing looks wrong from eyes bleared with rum and weakened 
by dissipation. A drunkard is, indeed, a sick man, and his 
disease will surely lay him away, unless that good, old-time 
physician, common sense, administers an allopathic dose. 
For years this man had been a tramp, and, during his profes- 
sional career as such, had made a tour of the world, or, at 
least, that portion of the globe dotted over by school houses 
and churches. He was a journeyman printer, and was, of 
course, obliged to keep within the charmed circle of news- 
paper influences, in order to live. In the Eastern States he 
had not fared well. Work scarce, wages low, and employers 
absurdly opposed to the use of ardent spirits. In the West 
and Northwest he was in clover ; his surroundings being more 
congenial and home-like. In the South he had found every- 
thing strangely un-American, and society existing with but little 
aid from newspapers and public schools. Hunting for a school- 
house in the South, in the rural districts, was much like hunt- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 1 63 

ing four-leaved clover, and newspapers, on an average, were 
two hundred miles apart. He soon found that a typoreal 
tour through the Southern States of America was not a desir- 
able thing for a man with an appetite demanding attention 
and supply. Once he had a home, but that was long ago, so 
long ago that he had almost forgotten about it, and he was a 
cosmopolitan in the strict sense of the word. Once he had 
been of good repute among his fellow-workmen, and had 
always sustained a first-class reputation as a printer and fast 
compositor. When at work, he lessened the quantity of his 
potations, and was abundantly able to execute any ordinary 
or extraordinary task known to the craft. Therefore, force 
of circumstances did not compel him to become a nomad 
among his fellows, or cause him to peregrinate in search of 
daily food. By nature he was a gentleman of classical attain- 
ments, and even King Alcohol had failed to eradicate the 
designs of nature’s God. He was built on the correct plan, 
but his manhood was like wheat among tares, hidden by its 
surroundings. Physically he was rather prepossessing in spite 
of his bloated appearance. When he walked, a defect in his 
gait was noticeable, caused by reason of a cork leg. He had 
left the missing limb on one of the bloody battlefields of the 
Rebellion. He was rather above the medium height, with 
wavy, dark hair, streaked with gray, and eyes that were 
piercingly black and blood-shot. His face was clean shaven, 
and notwithstanding the fact that he presented a battered and 
worn appearance, and his clothing was threadbare, he was 
scrupulously neat and clean. He was aware that soap and 
water were plentiful and cheap, and that all men, even tramps, 
could obtain enough of both articles to keep their clothing 
and bodies spotless. A common straw hat covered his head, 
and a pair of dry-weather shoes his feet, and, as he stood thus, 
on the banks of the Ohio River, he was not so unattractive 
as the average tramp. He was a tramp, however, for a’ that, 
and, as I was saying, he was dimly conscious that he was a 


164 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


degree drunker than usual. In fact, he had been drunk all 
day in the superlative degree, but he was not overwhelmingly 
intoxicated. His luggage consisted of a package of cheese 
and crackers and a bottle of rye whisky. The package he 
carried in his hand, the bottle in his pocket. The sun was 
down, and the tramp felt the need of a good bath before par- 
taking of his frugal meal. He doubted his ability to bathe 
successfully under the circumstances, but, drunk or sober, he 
was a man of strong will power, and, finding a suitable place, 
disrobed and entered the water in his own original style. In 
other days he had been an expert swimmer, but the loss of 
his limb made it impossible for him to be as graceful and so 
much at home in the water as in former times. Having 
splashed around to his heart’s content without accident, he 
returned to the shore much refreshed. As the shades of 
night began to settle he entered the wood and strayed quite 
a distance into its depths, in search of a suitable place to 
spend the night. Having found it, he seated himself upon 
the ground, laid aside his shoes, and prepared to eat his meal 
of cheese and crackers. He pulled his flask, placed it upon 
the ground, and stuck a tiny flag staff, from the top of which 
waved a tiny flag, into the stopper of the bottle, complacently 
remarking: ‘‘The Star Spangled Banner waves over the 
most abject slavery in the world, the serfdom of the bottle, 
and (philosophically) long may she wave.” 

Now, this tramp was not obliged to subsist on cheese and 
crackers, nor to travel on foot; but, when he was drinking 
heavily, he did both from choice. In his pocket-book was a 
reasonably large sum of money — large for a tramp to pos- 
sess — and being of a generous disposition, wherever he 
found a printing office he found friends, and generally work. 
Perhaps a biographical sketch of his life would be of interest, 
but for the purposes of this story it will not be necessary. 
Having satisfied the cravings of his appetite, he folded his 
coat for a pillow, and laid down to rest at the roots of a tree. 


J’HE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 1 65 

After a long time he drank from the bottle, and became lo- 
quacious in communing with himself ; 

Les miserables \?> French for always miserable; wonder 
what the French is for always drunk? Perhaps its les misera- 
bles, also, for I ’ve been drunk ever since the Rebellion, and 
have robbed myself of everything desirable in this life. 
There ’s nothing left of me now, save an appetite for gin ; 
everything went when my desire to live a respectable life 
passed away, and my desire to be useful and respectable 
did not die within me until the demon of drink had me safe 
in his clutches. But why should I care ? Life is a fraud, a 
vain delusion and a snare. Death is a soft snap. Time is 
but a tinkle of eternity, and the grave is only a niche cut in 
the walls of eternal silence, a splendid resting couch in a 
dark pavillion of everlasting peace. Friendship is a name 
for something hard to understand, and of little value; a thing 
that unbafs to knaves the palaces of our affections, and ena- 
bles them to steal away our treasures. To live is to be mis- 
erable ; to die is to sink to the confines of oblivion ; to love is 
to be betrayed; to hate is to suffer the pangs of the damned; 
to labor is to toil in vain for things we can not have ; to be 
idle is to become as turtles in the mud ; to be ambitious is to 
pave a way for constant failure and distress ; to have no am- 
bitious desires to better our condition, is to become like the 
dog or ass ; to be virtuous and noble, is to be above the world 
in which your neighbor lives and has his being ; to dwell with 
the wicked and embrace sin as a dear friend, is to suffer con- 
stant pain; to have friends, is to be deceived and plundered; 
to be without friends is worse than being dead. Oh, how I 
hate everybody ! No, I mean how I love everybody. I hate 
them because they seem happy and contented, and love them 
because I know they are not so, and their outward show is 
but a seeming. I know that a blissful seeming is not a reality, 
for whatever route a man takes to reach the gardens of pleas- 
ure, supposed to exist in the lives of the pure in heart, he 


— 12 — 


i66 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


must encounter perils and mishaps. Whichever path he 
enters, he will surely find obstacles to overcome, and snarl- 
ing beasts will be in the way. It makes no difference where 
a man’s lot may be cast, or whether he be rich or poor, he 
must receive his allotted share of misery. By analogy, I 
know that all men are miserable, because I am miserable 
when I am sober; but why should anyone be miserable as 
long as the worm of the still is able to furnish the foundations 
of genuine happiness? ” 

Here he removed the stopper and drank copiously. 

‘‘Alas, that my only joy is corked up in a bottle! A 
certain Temanite once said to Job, ‘ Shall a wise man fill his 
belly with east wind?’ A wise man would be less than wise 
should he do so when a bottle of Bourbon whisky is at hand. 
But I will not speak well of rum. No, it is my destroyer. 
It has led me into the dark ways of life, and dug a pit into 
which I have fallen. It has made me a vagabond and a 
tramp, a something for all men to laugh at. I was not al- 
ways in this shape ; I can dream of other days when the 
flush of youth was on my cheeks ; when desire beat 
high and ambition was beyond control. But that was long 
ago, and the gone days come as echoes — sweet in contrast 
with present bitterness. There’s no use sighing over the 
what-might-have-beens or the what-could-have-beens, nor the 
what-ought-to-have-beens, for man is interested only in the 
present and future, what is, and what is to be. Whatever the 
present is, or the future brings me, I am sure that every joy 
and blessing will be destroyed with mathematical certainty 
and precision. Whenever the darkness dwindles to the 
shadow of a shade, or perchance the sunlight falls athwart 
my pathway, I know that the dark angels will come again 
and drag me back to hell. In this world there are too many 
temptations for the weak; too many snares for the trusting 
heart of innocence ; too many pitfalls for the unwary ; too much 
hardship for the good there is in it; too much canvas for the 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 1 67 

size of the show ; too much to destroy, and, alas, too many 
helping hands idle. Evil is organized, effective, and aggres- 
sive. Good is timid, disorganized, and circumscribed. The 
hosts of Satan are abroad in the land, bringing swift destruc- 
tion with them. The camps of Israel are almost deserted, 
and are like McClellan’s army was on the banks of the Po- 
tomac, ^‘All Quiet,” and held in check by the captains 
whose only desire seems to be to save themselves from per- 
sonal injury. But no matter; the achievements of this world 
are not worth achieving; its victories are not worth gaining. 
The trophies of intellectual labor are not worth what they 
cost. Famous men are martyrs. Every life is a failure be- 
cause every man, like Solomon, finds in the end that it is 
nothing but vanity and vexation.” 

Here he descended from the sublime to the ridiculous 
by taking another pull from the bottle. 

How like an abiding dream is the face of the world to- 
night, — the hills over there, the majestic river yonder, with 
the clouds looming up as if they would deluge the world. 
With this cursed liquor numbing my brain, and the trees 
around me sighing the never-ending sigh of the forest, 1 
seem wafted to Utopian bliss. Oh ! if I could sink to rest, 
just now, and pass to that silent shore, while my faculties are 
numbing and regret for past failures are dead ! Euthanasia, 
let me embrace thee to-night. Let this throbbing pulse be 
still and this visionary brain forget its cunning. Let me 
pass to the realms of shade and find rest in the bosom of sil- 
ence. Let this hour be indeed a deep enchanting prelude to 
repose ! Oh this cursed appetite for drink ; the very leaves 
seem to whisper, whisky, whisky, whisky.” 

And the poor tramp lapsed into silence, which he main- 
tained until it was time to drink again, after which he con- 
tinued : 

‘‘God knows how I’ve been worsted in my uneven 
struggle for existence. I left this country a gentleman. I 


i68 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


return a vagabond ; a rum-soaked tramp, unfit for the society 
of decent men.’’ 

The human frame is so constituted that an expenditure of 
muscular force demands a proper amount of repair. Bodily 
fatigue is accelerated by a free use of stimulating fluid nour- 
ishment. Therefore, if alcohol has within itself the power 
to cause fatigue, a long walk of many weary miles added to 
the beverage, or the beverage added to the walk, as you 
please, will certainly cause excessive fatigue — a weariness 
caused by a blending of the natural, with a preternatural and 
a wee bit of supernatural. 

A mistaken idea prevails that tramps are carboniferous 
deposits, and that they never die. It does look that way, but 
such are not the facts. It is true, that one tramp — I mean a 
genuine, orthodox tramp of the old school, not our tramp — 
resembles all tramps of the old school, for the same reason 
that one lady dressed in her gossamer storm cloak, with the 
hood drawn over her head, resembles each one of a world 
full of ladies dressed in their storm cloaks with the hoods 
pulled over their heads. I can not imagine how the govern- 
ment could utilize tramps, unless it grants them annuities, and 
even then, many of them would be too lazy to draw their 
rations. This government feeds a lot of wild, shiftless and 
shirtless Indians ; why not tramps ? They could be regulated 
by the militia, and bayonet regulation, plenty of it, is what 
the average tramp deserves and should have. But here I 
am, chattering away like a swallow, unmindful of the fact 
that I am endeavoring to say something useful. 

Worn out by the long and weary journey of the day, and 
completely hazed by his deep potations, this classical tramp 
of mine sank into a troubled sleep, and dreamed that he was 
on a desert island, doomed to die alone, on the barren rocks, 
with the sound of a dismal, sullen sea, falling continually 
upon his ears. Suddenly, from the rocks above him, he heard 
a dreadful growl, and saw a large grizzly bear crawl out of a 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


169 


cave and look upon him with a hard, cruel cast of counte- 
nance. Looking to the right, he saw a mighty elephant, 
standing on a huge stone ; to the left, on another great rock, 
was a fierce white bull of extraordinary size. The bear 
growled at the elephant, and the elephant shook his trunk in 
defiance ; the bull bellowed and pawed the stone in mad haste 
for a battle. In a twinkling the island seemed alive with 
animal life. Tigers leaped from rock to rock ; lions roared 
and seemed about to tear the earth asunder. A large turtle 
crawled up towards the elephant, which began to nose around 
the innocent looking shell in a contemptuous manner. The 
turtle snapped the extended trunk, and the elephant gave a 
snort and a terrific struggle commenced. Slowly, but surely, 
the turtle drew the great beast from the rock, and both com- 
menced rolling over and over, directly towards him, the turtle 
holding fast to the elephant’s trunk. A horrible death was 
imminent; he tried to cry aloud, but could not. Down upon 
him they rolled, but touched lightly, in passing over him, 
and fell into the sea with a great noise. The white bull now 
made for the bear, and with one butt of his mighty head, 
killed him ; from the carcass of bruin came a drove of rats 
that swarmed about and nibbled him viciously ; but they soon 
turned to red ants and worms, that crawled continually 
through his meager clothing. By and by a couple of panthers 
came riding by on the back of a Texas pony; the pony 
cavorted exceedingly, but finally kicked them both from his 
back and killed them. From the hills above him, countless 
thousands of cinnamon bears and wild cats started for him, 
with horrible screams and growls, but just before reaching 
him, were confronted with a large anaconda of great length. 
The cats and bears immediately fled, howling with rage. The 
snake crawled towards him, with its evil eyes glittering, and 
its tail lashing the sand ; round and round him it wrapped its 
slimy folds, and he felt himself slowly and surely being 
smothered to death, but hearing the noise of wings, turned 


lyo THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

his eyes upward and beheld a mighty condor, who swooped 
down upon them and bore both, the snake and himself, high 
up in the air, so high that he lost sight of land and sea. The 
serpent made an effort to wind itself around the condor, and in 
doing so, loosed its hold, and he fell, like Icarus, into the 
sea. The bath seemed to revive him, and he struck out for 
the shore, but was destined not to reach it, for he struck some 
kind of an animal which immediately fastened itself to him, 
and he was a prisoner. He knew the beast at sight, having 
seen it on several occasions in illustrated newspapers; it had 
four or five hundred arms and heads fastened to a kettle- 
shaped body. He was in the clutches of the strong arms of a 
devil-fish, which rolled him constantly into and out of the sea, 
and did many things that laid Victor Hugo’s Octopus in the 
shade. It occurred to him that he must do something or 
drown, and being quite thirsty, began the task of swallow- 
ing the sea, in order to get to dry land and strand the beast. 
The water began to sink ; land appeared in the distance — the 
shores of the sea; and he had great hope of completing his 
task, when the beast, discovering his plans, began to turn 
himself rapidly in the water as if to thwart his purpose. He 
awoke, covered with cold perspiration and burning inwardly 
with thirst, which explained why he dreamed of taking such 
an immense contract of drinking sea water. A hard storm 
had been in progress while he had been sleeping, and, al- 
though protected by the trees, he was quite damp. The rain 
was still coming down with steady vehemence, and now and 
then a rumble of thunder could be heard, but the fierceness 
of the storm had abated. Burning with thirst, he arose and 
sought a small spring he had noticed on the hillside only a 
short distance away. Long and eagerly he quaffed the cool- 
ing liquid, and bathed his face and roaring head in it with 
great satisfaction, after which the somnolent creature resumed 
his place at the roots of the beech and was soon asleep. 
And he dreamed again, but the spirit of his dream was alto- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 171 

gether different, for he dreamed jof the days of youth; of 
a happy home and kind friends ; of a night-eyed maiden with 
a pleading face, who embraced him and whispered her love 
in a voice that was like wine. 

“I love you,” he cried, stirring uneasily in his sleep, and 
the maiden leaned her head on his bosom, just as of yore, 
and said : love you, forever and forever, for weal and 

for woe.” The scene changed, and he stood by a sun-kissed 
brook, a barefooted boy, who loved the birds and the sun- 
shine, and the flowers, and the broad wheat fields and the 
low meadows, better than other things. All the bright things 
that had died out of his life were restored, and he murmured 
rapturously, ‘The world is very beautiful, and — 

The somniloquist found himself sitting bolt upright with- 
out knowing why he did so, broad awake, peering into the 
darkness in search of something which had awakened him. 
There was a tangible nearness of something, and he was con- 
scious of the presence of something alive which might be 
dangerous to search for in the dark. Were you ever alone 
in the dark, filled with a sense of fear and expectancy ? If 
so, did you not notice that silence made a noise, in trying to 
keep still ? Long and earnestly the tramp peered into the 
darkness, in search of something he failed to discover. He 
was sure that something had caused a break in his slumbers, 
and, not being able to compose his mind, started towards the 
river in a very cautious and noiseless manner. When near 
the bank, where he could plainly hear the noise of the waves 
and ripples, he saw a light which proved to be from a lantern 
on board of a small tug boat, about large enough to carry a 
half dozen passengers. AVhat could it mean ? Perhaps the 
man in the boat could tell him ? No doubt he could, but 
would he do so? The man in the boat might have a gun in 
his pocket, and if he was a bad man, engaged in some foul 
deed, would be sure to use the gun in reckless haste if any- 
thing to shoot at approached. Therefore, discretion was the 


172 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


best policy, and the better part of valor. Once, in a western 
town, this tramp had encountered a man with a gun, and the 
man with the gun had shot into his anatomy with true 
western fervor. With some trepidation he gazed at the little 
craft, and the man dimly outlined by the light of the lantern, 
and after due consideration, in the light of historical events, 
he concluded to allow the man the unmolested use of the 
boat and the freedom of the Ohio river. 


CHAPTEE XYI. 

A TRAMP UTILIZED. 

Gliding in amongst the trees again, he sought the spring, 
for the purpose of obtaining another draught. After refresh- 
ing himself and cooling his parched tongue with a prolonged 
draught, he concluded to seek his former reposing place and 
leave the nocturnal visitor, or visitors, as the case might be, 
to carry out their schemes, whether good or evil, unmolested. 
Self-preservation being the first law of nature, and tramps be- 
ing built on the labor-saving plan, you should not be sur- 
prised at a practical demonstration on the part of oiir tramp. 
Awhile ago you heard him voting life a bore and a fraud, yet 
he was just like other people, and shrank from the death he 
longed to embrace. His head was hot and dizzy, and he 
bathed it again in the running water of the spring. After which 
he gazed long and earnestly into the inky blackness of the 
forest, and something made him start with surprise. It was 
the flash of a lantern in the low marshy lands beneath him. 
What could it all mean? Lanterns, men, and boats, floating 
around at the darkest hour of night. Surely there was a 
purpose and an aim in such a mystery worth finding out, 
and when the lantern flashed again the tramp began to edge 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


173 


his way towards the place from^ whence it came. After 
bumping in and out among the trees for some time, he came 
to a place where he supposed the light would be found, but 
he searched in vain, and was about to give up in despair, 
when he saw it again in a dense undergrowth just in front of 
him. Was he following a will-o’-the-wisp ? He persuaded 
himself to move forward, and as he approached the light 
heard the sound of a pick, and by and by a shovel. What 
could it mean ? He also discerned the dim outlines of three 
men. Were they searching for buried treasure? He was 
not a coward, and being intensely excited, drew very near, 
screened by the decayed stump of a tree. He was now very 
near, and, by reaching out his hand, could have touched one 
of the men — the one who held the lantern. An object lay 
upon the ground; what was it? As the light flashed upon it 
the tramp was horrified to notice that it was a human body, ap- 
parently dead, with its face and head covered with blood. 
The man with the light came close to the prostrate form — it 
was the body of a woman. The man who handled the pick 
and shovel was digging a grave. Horror of horrors ! What 
could it all mean ? A steamer, and men with lanterns bury- 
ing the body of a woman in an out-of-the-way place at night ! 
Was he dreaming, or was it a fact? There were the men, 
and the body, and the grave, and the lantern, and the pick, 
and the shovel ; but there was no undertaker, no hearse, no 
mourners, no preacher, and none of the appurtenances of a 
first-class, or even respectable funeral. Could it be murder ? 
The thought came like a flash. All the time he had sus- 
pected evil, and that the men were criminals, but to bring it 
down to murder, and to think that he was face to face with 
murderers, just completing their foul work, was almost too 
much of a strain on his nervous system. Should he stand 
idly by and see a crime successfully consummated ? His pu- 
gilistic qualities were aroused, and the tramp was swallowed 
up by the soldier within him. He was every inch of a man 


174 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


now. The men were in an open space, in a dense under- 
growth, and our tramp was concealed, but their every action 
was plain to him. Each one had served his time at the grave, 
handling the pick and shovel, and it was nearly completed. 

“ Spinoza, you are ad — n fool,” said the classical grave- 
digger, from the depths of the tomb; ‘‘do you want us to 
dig to China, or bury this woman so deep that the sound of 
Gabriel’s trumpet can not reach her ? ” 

“Softly, pard, sofdy!”said the tall, villainous looking 
Spinoza. “ Doncher know how the speerits tantalize me ef 
the body haint put in deep ? ” 

“ Speerits, the devil !” muttered the man in the grave. 
“ Might as well have drapped her inter the ’Hio River, en 
been done with it.” 

“To be sure,” cried the little ratty looking fellow who 
held the lantern. “ What’s the use of cornin’ away down 
here to hide the stiff, when we could uv dropt it inter the 
river ? There is not no money in this ’eer job noways, not 
’nuff to be so tickler ’bout.” 

“Yer blamed neck would be in danger jist the same,” 
growled Spinoza. “’Sperience teach a man a great many 
things, an’ I know fur a fact, thet water aint ez good as dirt 
an ashes in sich business. Bury ’em deep, says I, and kiver 
’em with logs and brush, which you set on fire and leave to 
burn. Who ’d think uv lookin’ under a pile of ashes in the 
woods arter a missin’ woman ? Nary body would do so, 
says I.” 

“Denied if ye haint right,” said an admiring voice from 
the tomb. “ I ’m a learnin’ somethink about the profession 
every day. Don’t bleeve in speerits, though. Cap, ’ceptin’ of 
them as comes in bottles.” 

Spinoza accepted this as a reminder, and handed the man 
a flask, from which he drank long and eloquently. 

“ Likker is a good thing in its place,” said the little wharf- 
rat, gazing with consternation at the vehement manner in 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


175 


which the grave-digger downed the fiery liquid. The flask 
was handed to him, and he proceeded to put the remaining 
contents where he considered was its proper place.” 

‘‘Hurry up!” Spinoza ejaculated, “ er the d — n nigger 
fll run off with the boat.” 

“ All ready. Cap,” said the voice from the tomb. “Three 
feet deep and room enough to turn round in.” 

“ Kaint we hev some religious doin’s ? ” said the man with 
the lantern. “Yarth to yarth, and sompin else like that?” 

“ Bah 1 ” cried Spinoza, contemptuously. “ After a man 
or woman ’s cold, bury ’em quick, says I. All you say over 
the carcass is twaddle, pow-wow an’ twaddle, twaddle. The 
speerit uv this eer gal haint in a millyun miles uv this neck uv 
the woods.” 

Instantly a very low moan came to the startled ears of the 
villainous trio. It was from the tramp, but answered the 
purpose. , 

“ Speerits,” shouted the superstitious Spinoza. “ I knowed 
nothing good ed come uv killin’ this critter.” 

“You’re a fool,” said the burly grave-digger. There 
haint no sech thing ez spooks, and ef they ware, they 
wouldn’t be a wastin uv their time in Kaintuck. I tell you 
that sound did n’t come from ary spook ; its from some animile 
ur reptile. Now, hurry up an help strip the togs off’n this 
gal, and lets heave her inter the ’ternity box and git.” 

Spinoza having recovered his legs, began to help the 
rufflan, and the clothing of the woman had been partially re- 
moved, when Spinoza uttered an exclamation of fright, and 
began to jabber in most abject terror. 

“ Booby 1 ” said the burly villain, who continued his efforts 
to disrobe the body; “hev you hern another ghost er gob- 
lin?” 

“ Cap ’s got too much likker on board; he ’s as narvous as 
a moonlight ’stiller, a makin’ uv blue-grass bitters without per- 
mission,” said the man with the lantern. 


176 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Damn yer ugly mugs ! ” chattered Spinoza; Kaintcher 
understand? The critter aint ded.^’ The burly villain laid 
his broad. hand on the woman’s brow, and, to his surprise, 
found it life-like. Tearing away the clothing from the chest, 
he laid his ear to the heart, and, after a time, could detect a 
low throbbing. 

‘‘Fools air sometimes kerrect,” he said, alluding to Spi- 
noza ; arising to his feet and stepping away from the body, he 
continued : “ She’s alive and ’ll soon be a kickin’.” 

“ Onless some interweenin providence pervents,” said 
the clerical lantern man. 

“ Somethin’ is agoin’ to happen suddingly,” said the burly 
villain, leveling his revolver at the prostrate form; “ ef she 
haint ded, she will be immejitly. It ’s bad policy to do things 
by ’alv'es.” 

Something did happen. Something, with a cork-leg, 
came hopping from behind a big stump, and gave the burly 
scoundrel a blow that would have felled an ox. With a 
scream of pain he dropped his pistol and fled. The lantern 
man endeavored to extinguish his lantern, and in doing so 
dropped it. The entire party went in the general direction 
of the river. The tramp grasped the revolver, and followed 
as best he could, but when he arrived on the bank of the 
river, found they had boarded the craft, and were leaving in hot 
haste. A shot from the revolver took effect in Spinoza’s right 
arm, and he roared with pain, much to the enjoyment of the 
burly ruffian, who laughed outright, and seemed truly glad 
that some one, besides himself, was hurt. 

They steamed slowly out of sight, and as they will not 
figure further in this story, I will let them go without further 
notice. I know that it is a part of my duty as a novelist to 
hang these villians, but I positively cannot spare the time. I 
did not read in the papers, that these scoundrels arrived safely 
at any point along the Ohio River; then let us pray, de- 
voutly, that their boat was swamped and their bodies became 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


177 


food for the fishes. Or, if they did land safely, let us hope 
that they reformed and became good and useful members 
of the Salvation Army. 

Slowly the tramp wended his way through the trees back 
to the place where he had left the body. Everything was 
dark, and in stumbling around he fell into the newly-made 
grave. He crawled out with an oath, and a sprained wrist, 
and searched for the lantern, which at length was found. A 
tramp without matches would not be a tramp, and the lan- 
tern was soon burning as brightly as ever. The woman was 
lying just as he had left her, apparently without life, yet cer- 
tainly alive. Her garments were badly disarranged, and dis- 
closed a well rounded limb to the knee, from which the 
silken hose had been pulled down. The tramp carefully ad- 
justed the stocking, and said : 

‘‘It is her own personal and private property to expose or 
conceal a); will, but I am not so vile a thing as to allow my 
eyes to gaze upon what she would conceal if restored to con- 
sciousness. Woman is the foundation of constitutional gov- 
ernment; her influence is a lever that can turn the world up- 
side down — and at the bottom of every man’s calamity, is 
either a woman’s leg, or a bottle of whisky, or both.” 

And this philosophical tramp composed her wearing 
apparel as decently and gently as a woman would have done, 
after which he folded his coat and placed it under her head, 
and, bringing some water from the spring in his hat, bathed 
her face and temples for a long time. He was rewarded, at 
length, by the sound of a sigh from the woman ; after much 
more rubbing and deluging with spring water, there were 
more sighs and moans from the wounded. By and by the 
pulse was throbbing and the blood circulating. What was he 
to do ? A stranger in a strange land, at night, in company 
with a dead woman who insisted in returning to life, contrary 
to precedent. It so happened that this locality was not thickly 
settled, on account of the sterility of the soil, and, conse- 


178 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


quently, the nearest house was at least two miles distant. 
Help he must have, but how to obtain it was hard to deter- 
mine. The only way possible was to hunt up some one and 
solicit aid. To leave his charge alone, exposed and helpless 
as she was, did not seem proper, but it must be done. He 
remembered to have seen an old log cabin, with signs of life 
about it, yesterday — the signs of life being a pig rooting in 
the sod. ‘‘Where there’s a pig, there’s a man, and where 
there ’s a man, there ’s generally a woman, and, perhaps, 
warm hearts and willing hands.” So he reasoned, as he 
started on his quest, carrying the lantern with him, in order 
to make a quick trip. As he proceeded his anxiety increased, 
and it seemed hours to him before he stood at the door of the 
cabin. After a prolonged pounding there was evidence of 
animation within, and lamp light was visible. A gruff voice 
cried out : 

“Who be it, and what dew ye want?” 

“I am a stranger, and wish you no harm; to cut a long 
story short, there’s a woman laying at the point of death, 
in the wood, about two miles from your cabin, and she needs 
medical aid and immediate attention. Will you not go with 
me and assist in bringing her to your house? You shall be 
amply rewarded for your trouble.” 

“Dew be keerful, Zebadee,” said a female voice. “It 
may be a scheme to git you from the house, and then rob us, 
an’ you know that costly chaney sugar bowl that grandmother 
gave us, aint to be picked up every day in the week ; no, not 
by a jug full.” 

“ Pap,” squeaked a voice from some uncertain depth, 
“ tell thet feller to go ’long away. 1 s’pect he ’s only one uv 
a gang that ’s stealin’ uv horses, an wants tew git us out inter 
the woods and then steal old Charley.” 

“Shet,” said Zebadee, “horse thieves don’t go round 
the country with railroad lanterns in ther hands.” 

“Good people,” said the tramp, in despairing tones, “I 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


179 


beg you to trust me. Remember, that the woman’s life is in 
great danger, and every moment is valuable. If you will not 
assist me, have you a cart or small hand wagon of some kind 
that I could use in conveying her to some place where she 
will be cared for properly ?” 

“Blame my skin ef any one shall ever say that Zeb Con- 
way turned a man or woman from his door when they were 
a sufferin’. Git up hayr, Borygard, and git yerself riddy fur 
tew help.” 

The door was thrown open, and the tramp beheld the in- 
terior of an humble dwelling place, very plainly and cheaply 
furnished with ancient designs of furniture, but, also, neat 
and clean. The family consisted of a man, woman, and a 
boy in his teens. They were soon ready to accompany the 
stranger, and the male trio started off together, carrying with 
them a very light, old-fashioned rocking chair, which seemed 
the most available vehicle in which to carry the woman to 
the house. 

They had proceeded but a short distance when Zeb was 
called back to the house by his good and cautious housewife. 

“Zeb,” she said, “dew be keerful; that feller may be a 
bad un fer all ye know. I smelt whisky on him, an’ mebby 
he’s jist aimin’ to git ye into trouble. Take my shears along 
with ye, an ef he makes a pass at ye, jist stick him the same 
as ye would a pig.” 

Zeb did not accept his wife’s proffered pair of scissors, but 
turning away in disgust, hastened to rejoin the tramp and his 
son. With much difficulty the tramp conducted them to the 
place where the woman was lying, telling his story as he 
went. They heard her moaning, piteously, before reaching 
the spot, but she way lying in about the same position in 
which the tramp had left her. Instantly Zebadee’s good, 
kind heart warmed towards the unfortunate female, and he 
Avas affected to tears when he saw the grave, and compre- 
hended the truth of the tramp’s strange story. 


l8o THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

Very tenderly she was lifted in their strong arms, placed 
in the rocking chair, and made as comfortable as possible for 
the hard journey to the cabin. The men were strong and 
able to carry their burden, but it was a harder task than they 
anticipated, and the tramp’s sprained wrist was quite painful. 
The boy went before them with the lantern, and found a 
much shorter route to the house than the one taken by the 
tramp. The poor, wounded girl was finally laid upon a soft, 
white bed, in the cabin, in an unconscious condition. 

The tramp, or Juan Valera, as he called himself, after re- 
ceiving minute instructions from Zebadee, mounted old 
Charley, and started for the small village of Exter in search 
of medical aid, while Beauregard went to a distant neighbor’s 
to inform them of the affair. 

‘‘Zeb Conway,” said the. good wife, shedding tears, ‘‘kin 
ye see the hand uv the Lord in this ’ere bizness ? Pears 
like as if God warn’t a doing his hull duty when he stood by 
an’ ’lowed a passel o’ devils to butcher up this pore lamb this 
away.” 

“ Jezreel, don’t ye be complainin’ uv the Almighty. He 
do everything fer the best, even in old Kaintuck. Jedge 
him not, nur try to argify about his intentions, which air 
alius good ; fer the Lord made the heavings an’ the airth, an’ 
every livin’ critter, an’ he don’t need no adwise about heow 
to run his business. Ax no questions when he do anythink, 
fur the book says, ‘ He is good an’ his marcy indureth fur- 
ever.’ Look how he pestered Job, Jezreel; how he killed 
his cattle, destroyed his craps, took his children away from 
him, and kivered him all over with gumbiles an’ swellin’s uv 
all kinds, an’ sent the devil to make him swear; but Job jist 
kept right on a grinnin’ and a barrin’ uv it, an’ never said a 
harmful word agin the Lord, an’ by an’ by he found out 
thet the Lord knew a blamed sight the most.” 

“Zebadee,” replied the good woman, who had been 
unceasing in her efforts to relieve the unfortunate woman. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


l8l 


and was at that moment bathing, her hands and feet, ‘‘I 
never could hold a cannel to ye in argifyin’ scriptur’, but how 
could the Lord permit sich doin’s right under our very noses ? 
How could we’uns be a sleepin’ an’ a snorin’ away in our 
beds when them raskils war a tryin’ to bury a live woman 
under the ground up thar in the swamp ? An’ sich a nice 
gal, tew. Jist look ’a hyar — ” And the motherly Jezreel 
held up one of the tiny hands of the wounded female. It 
was bleeding, having been tramped upon and mangled in a 
most cruel manner by the would-be assassins. 

‘^Bory’s hed time tew git back,” said Zebadee, after 
having examined the wounded hand. ‘‘Them Hargitt gals 
haint much account, but they ’ll be company fer ye, leasta- 
ways.” 

“ Borygard hed better staid tew hum,” said Jezreel, 
“ them Hargitt gals kaint take keer uv a sick woman no more 
than nothin’. • Becky Hargitt haint got no more sence than 
our brown heifer, no how, an’ the hull lot uv ’em are a slom- 
icky set.” 

Beauregard suddenly made his appearance, much excited, 
and with a look of deep disgust on his countenance. 

“ Pap,” he exclaimed, “ dern their ugly picters, not a one 
uv ’em would come. Skeered to death when I tole ’em ’bout 
the gal. Kurnel Hargitt, he says : ‘ Bub, tell Kurnel Con- 
way that mebby I ’ll run down tew Kurnel Davis’ an Kurnel 
O’Brien’s after breakfast and tell ’em tew go over tew yore 
house, though taint our bizness, nohow, tew fule with strange 
weemin who git killed a purpose to be taken keer uv by law- 
abidin’, tax-payin’ citizens.” 

“ Don’t want the slomicky set around here noways,” said 
Jezreel. “ Glad they haint a cornin’.” 

Colonel Hargitt did not come, nor did he inform his dis- 
tant neighbors, for he was a conservative kind of an old fogy, 
who believed in having as little intercourse with the world as 
possible. Therefore, the news of the sad affair was not 

— 13 — 


i 82 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


spread to any extent until long after the departure of the un- 
fortunate woman. 

‘‘Guess the pore critter must be a furriner,” continued 
Jezreel, after Beauregard had told his story, “fur I heerd her 
talkin’ Dutch or sompin’ like, awhile ago.” 

'‘‘‘Au bout dll coinpte mon ami^ Tantva la cruche a Veau qiCa 
la fin elk secassefi came from the suffering girl in soft flowing 
accents. 

“Thar, Borygard, aint that Dutch? You ’uns have bin 
tew skule ! ” said Jezreel. 

Dixl et Salvavi animam meant continued the feverish 
sufferer. 

“Dutch, did yer say, mam?” said Beauregard, with an 
air of great superiority. “Them’s Irish.” 

“Dutch ur Irish, ur what not, she’s a pore unfortunit 
critter, thet cum tew us by the marcy uv God, an’ jist ez long 
ez thar’s a crust uv bread in the cabin she ^lill hev it,” said 
Zebadee Conway, earnestly and firmly. 

“ On connait /’ ami au besoinfi as if in reply. 

“ Soun’s like she’s a swarin’ ’bout sumthink,” said Bory, 
“but mebby it ’s the way the Irish jabber when they git hurt.” 

“ Hesh, Bory; the pore critter don’t know what she’s a 
sayin’ no more than nothin’. Her brains are all momixed up, 
an’ it’s enough to make anybody swar jest tew look at her,” 
said Jezreel. 

Meanwhile, Valera, the tramp, had arrived at the vil- 
lage of Exter, which is so small that you could not find it 
on your map, and proceeded to search for the village physi- 
cian, which was not an easy matter for a stranger at such an 
early hour of the morning. 

An old, rickety, two-story frame house, with a long 
porch on the street side of it, was called a hotel, from 
the bar-room of which came a feeble light from a dingy lamp 
on the counter used as a bar. The tramp was not a trifle 
backward about arousing the landlord of the house, which he 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 183 

did by long and continued rapping at the door. The land- 
lord, who had retired with an overdose of Tom and Jerry, 
was not at all willing to admit any one, or, rather, not willing 
to get out of bed, although day was breaking. A shrill 
female voice followed the opening of a window, and he was 
commanded to leave. The tramp knocked longer and louder 
than before, and finally a half-dressed individual grumblingly 
admitted him, saying that he did not ‘‘ like to get out of bed 
jest to git a man a drink.” Much to his surprise Valera told 
him he did not want a drink, but a physician and surgeon 
immediately, for one who was at the point of death. The 
landlord, who was a good natured individual and sympathetic, 
went with him to the dwelling of the only physician in the 
place. To the tramp’s chagrin and horror, he was told by 
the lady of the house that the doctor was in the city, and 
would not return for several days. 

She, will die for want of medical aid,” groaned the tramp. 
^^What shall I do ? She will surely die unless I get a 
physician.” 

‘‘And,” said his companion, by way of consolation, 
“ there is not another doctor within ten miles of the place.” 

“Then it is indeed useless to hope for assistance, for she 
would be dead before the journey could be made.” 

“I have it!” cried the landlord. “A doctor from New 
Orleans has been at the hotel for several days ; he is here 
looking after some land interests, and will return to-day. It 
might be that you could prevail upon him to favor you with 
his services. His purpose is to get a steamer at the landing 
just beyond Conway’s, and would possibly stay with you the 
greater part of the day.” 

“If he will serve me,” said Valera, “then I shall no 
longer doubt the intervention of a kindly Providence in hu- 
man affairs. Let us ascertain at once if he will come to the 
rescue.” 

Dr. Gabriel Lemoine was sleeping the sleep of the just. 


184 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


and was awakened from a ‘‘deep dream of peace rather 
rudely by the landlord, who was becoming much excited 
with the id^a that he was about to be of some use in the world. 

Lemoine was an eminent physician, and like all eminent 
physicians should be, who have climbed the rugged path to 
fame, and touched and rested on every round of the ladder, 
he was not greatly surprised nor seriously annoyed at being 
summoned from his bed. Valera was ushered into the pri- 
vate apartment occupied by the physician, and told his story 
with exceeding briefness. His style of address was courteous 
in the extreme, and- the doctor mentally pronounced him a gen- 
tleman ; not knowing anything to the contrary. Fortunately 
Lemoine had a complete outfit of improved surgical instru- 
ments, and his medicine case. The latter he carried with him 
from force of habit, and the former had been purchased, in the 
city, since leaving home. He consented readily to accom- 
pany the tramp ; the landlord rushed off in hot haste, and had 
a horse and buggy at the door within a few moments. The 
drive to Conway’s was forced and rapid, but a little after sun- 
rise they arrived within half a mile of the cabin, where the 
doctor was forced to abandon the vehicle on account of the 
roughness of the road, or rather on account of the absence 
of the road. The landlord returned to Exter, as Lemoine 
had brought his meager luggage with him, purposing not to 
return to the village if he could succeed in getting any kind of 
a river vehicle to , where he would take passage to Cairo. 

When they arrived they found the girl quite delirious, and 
talking French and Latin constantly, which the physician 
seemed to understand. He told them that the girl was cer- 
tainly a fine scholar, and surmised that she was a school 
teacher in some city school. It seemed apparent that she 
was a foreigner, and as her French was so perfect, they de- 
cided that she was a French woman, of gentle blood. Valera 
had styled her Le petite Aimee, and continued to do so when 
he had occasion to speak of her. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


185 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

LE PETITE AIMEE. 

Dr. Gilbert Lemoine was in love with his profession, and 
a difficult piece of surgery was a. thing of joy to him. Not 
that he cared to witness suffering, or cause pain, but he was 
skillful, had a reputation to sustain, and was as proud of a 
neat job of surgery as a good carpenter is proud of the ex- 
cellence of his work. His practice, at home, was extensive — 
too extensive for his good, and being overworked, he con- 
cluded to visit his former home in Kentucky, where he was 
interested largely in real estate, which he had not seen for ten 
or twelve years. He had left the State of Kentucky when a 
boy ; had lived most of a long lifetime in the State of Louisi- 
ana, and nearly all of the time at New Orleans. It was a 
very fortunate thing for Le peiite Ainiee that, in her distress, 
so good a physician and surgeon was at hand. He examined 
his patient thoroughly, evincing much interest in the case, for 
he readily discerned that a delicate surgical operation was 
necessary, and had very grave doubts as to the results. The 
sick woman was quite handsome, and her soft flowing French 
accents, moaning and wild at times, had a peculiar charm for 
the grim doctor, and caused his heart to soften in sympathy 
for the brave little woman who had doubtless suffered some 
great wrong at the hands of villains who might never be 
brought to justice. Within the humble cabin of the poor 
Cracker, this great physician was as zealously devoted to his 
beloved profession as he would have been at the bedside of 
a millionaire’s daughter. He was the kind of a surgeon who 
would saw a king’s leg off, or a beggar’s leg off, with the 
same degree of finish ; in either case the job would be exe- 
cuted in the best and most skillful manner known to the pro- 
fession, with no other incentive than professional pride and 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


I 86 

love for duty. He had a holy contempt for the cobblers of 
his profession, and despised all professional brethren who had 
acquired loose ways of executing their professional duties. 
It was said of him, that he could carve a man all to pieces 
in the dark, a thing easy to do, I admit, but his admirers only 
meant that he could perform his work to perfection. The 
case before him was an elegant one, and he mentally con- 
gratulated himself upon being so fortunate. 

Zebadee Conway was a poor, unambitious creature, but 
his heart was as warm as the summer’s sunshine. He had 
always lived in Kentucky, and had a half developed idea that 
it was a little nearer heaven than the balance of the world. 
Unlettered and uncouth, yet he was, indeed, a true specimen 
of an honest man, so far as his intentions were concerned, 
and a fitting companion for the motherly Jezreel. The soft- 
hearted Beauregard began to sniffle as soon as he caught sight 
of the surgeon’s gleaming steel, and when the poor girl 
screamed with pain, he blubbered out in tearful sympathy, 
and was ordered peremptorily from the room. He fled to the 
log stable, where he wrapped his arms around ^‘old Charley’s” 
neck, and vowed that it was a “derned shame fer the pesky 
sawbones to hurt the little Irish gal thet away.” 

Old Charley, who was, doubtless, angry because of the 
hard usage given him by the tramp, twisted his tail and 
snorted in a way that plainly intimated that he was glad that 
some one was to suffer a dispensation of Providential wrath, 
as redress for his wrongs. Jezreel came to the stable, also, 
to have a cry, after she could be of no further use at the 
house. 

‘‘Bory! Bory ! may the Lord presarve us,” she cried. 
‘Ht’s a ’nuff to drive a body wild to see that feller pokin’ of 
his little iron crowbars inter the pore critter, and a lookin’ ez 
onconsarned ez if he war jist a skinnin’ uv a catfish ; it makes 
my blood bile; it do, Bory, it do, and I kaint hep it.” She 
sobbed violently for a few moments, and then, as if by inspir- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 187 

ation, said : “ May the good Lord find them devils thet tried 

to murder the pore gal aginst her will.’^ 

An’ send ’em to hell whar they belong,” added Beaure- 
gard, with pious emphasis. 

Jezreel shuddered and sobbed, but said nothing, doubtless 
regarding her sort’s profanity excusable under the circum- 
stances. After awhile she gathered some fresh eggs, and 
hastened to the cabin and finished preparations for the morn- 
ing meal, which had been somewhat neglected. It was quite 
late, however, before any one would think of eating, for the 
patient had been troublesome, and the doctor’s task quite 
difficult; but, after everything had been adjusted to a nicety, 
he was ready to appease his appetite. He thought he had 
never tasted food with a better relish than on that occasion. 
The good housewife had spared no pains to make the meal a 
success, and the results were gratifying to her guests. 

After breakfast a stroll in the woods was in order, and 
Valera, in company with the physician, went out to enjoy a 
smoke, and to devise some plan whereby the patient could be 
cared for properly. 

Under the circumstances, I am deeply interested in her 
welfare,” said Valera. 

am equally interested in her,” said Lemoine, ‘‘for I 
know that it is absolutely necessary that she receive the closest 
attention by a skilled physician, and, if possible, by an experi- 
enced nurse, otherwise she will die. If she regains health, 
there is great danger that her mental faculties will be perma- 
nently injured. It is quite probable that, even with the best 
attention, she will require the confinement and restraint of a 
mad house during the remainder of her life.” 

Valera was astounded and greatly troubled by this bit of in- 
formation, given so quietly and with such professional candor. 

“Great God! have I saved her from death that she may 
live and die in a mad house ? It would have been far better 
if the villains had consummated their foul designs.” 


1 88 THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

It happens that way sometimes/’ said Lemoine. But 
people will get hurt, otherwise surgical skill would be of little 
benefit to mankind. If the girl lives at all, it will be a won- 
derful triuihph of a strong constitution over death itself. She 
is endowed with great vitality and a healthy body, which is 
the only hope. There is one chance in a thousand that she 
may be restored to reason, if restored to health, but only a 
very small chance in a thousand chances, and if she remain 
here that chance will be in danger. What shall we do ? 
Place her in charge of some charitable institution, and run 
the risk of having her properly nursed ? ” 

‘‘There is no available institution of that kind hereabouts; 
if there was I should prefer to knoiv that she bad proper care, 
and would not leave her in incompetent hands, or with those 
who would fail to give her that sympathetic attention so neces- 
sary to a speedy restoration to good health.” 

“I admire your judgment; good nursing and pleasant 
surroundings are sometimes the best medicine; but what is 
done must be done quickly. It is barely possible she could 
be removed now, but within a short time her fever will 
increase and removal would be impossible.” 

“Not being familiar with this part of the country,” said 
Valera, “ I am at a loss to know the nearest suitable place for 
her. If nothing better can be done, I will go to the city and 
secure the services of a first-class nurse and a good physician, 
leave the former in charge, and have the latter to make regu- 
lar visits.” 

“All of which would be very costly,” dryly remarked 
Lemoine. “The people at the cabin have enough good 
intentions and genuine sympathy to run a hospital, and would 
do very well for nurses; but it would be impossible to get a 
first-class physician to visit this God-forsaken region without 
paying him immense sums of money. Your best plan would 
be to take her to a place where you can obtain what you 
need without so much trouble and expense.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAVDON. I 89 

But how and where can we take her?” said Valera, in 
tones of despair. 

‘‘On that point,” said the physician, “I am unable to 
give you the slightest assistance. I am a stranger here, and 
much as I would like* to give you further aid, am sorry to say 
that I must leave this afternoon, for I have many patients at 
home who are, no doubt, anxiously awaiting my return.” 

The two men had wandered more than a mile away from 
the cabin and were deep in the wood, standing under the 
over-hanging branches of a great beech. The simple an- 
nouncement that he would soon be left alone with the help- 
less girl, made Valera almost sick at heart. He was fully 
aware of the great responsibility which had been thrust upon 
him, and the meager opportunities for doing his whole duty. 
All his manhood had, seemingly, been restored, and with it 
came regret for the past, and desire for the future. He had 
been raised from a herbaceous bit of animation at the roots 
of a tree,*to life and action. The fungus growth had ceased, 
and the fungoid would fain become a healthy and useful 
plant in the garden of his God. He was determined not to 
leave the unfortunate girl tir^;il he had found her natural pro- 
tectors, and, if she had none, to. remain with her as long as 
she required bis friendship. So he began to devise a plan 
for the consummation of his wishes, but, as the poet aptly re- 
marked, “The best laid plans of mice and men, gang aft 
aglee,” and I have noticed that, when Providence mixes in 
with human affairs, and undertakes to assist a man or woman 
to surmount difficulties, he is generally successful. Review- 
ing the circumstances, even now, I can see the hand of Prov- 
idence in the whole matter, else, why should a drunken 
tramp printer stumble into the wood, in an out-of-the-way lo- 
cality, almost desolate and quite unattractive, just at the 
proper time to rescue a beautiful girl from a horrible death ? 
Pro.vidence having identified himself in the matter, was 
bound to lend a helping hand and bridge all difficulties, until 


190 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


such a time when human hearts and human brains were able 
to manage the case successfully. And so it happened that 
Providence came walking through the wood to where they 
stood, all Unconscious of their presence. He came in the 
shape of a large, well developed Catholic priest, a jolly good 
fellow, with a smooth face and regulation paunch. He was 
not exactly of ‘^heaven directed mein,’’ albeit, he was ‘‘of 
cultured soul and sapient eye serene.” In fact, he looked as 
if he enjoyed the good things of this world far better than he 
did the anticipated joys of the next world. Now, will you 
please inform me how it came about, that an elegantly at- 
tired Catholic priest appeared at that opportune moment to 
help them with his counsel? You must admit that it was 
Providence who directed him to walk through the wood. 
To be sure, at the landing, a short ways down the river, was 
the splendid steamer, “Jasamine Bell,” which had pulled in 
to shore because of the absolute necessity of repairing a 
break in the machinery. Who broke the machinery ? I an- 
swer that it was undoubtedly the work of Providence. Not 
that Providence makes a business of breaking, or disarrang- 
ing the machinery of steamers, but because it was necessary 
to send help to the job he had commenced, over on the land. 
Perhaps the breakage, or disarrangement of the machinery, 
could have been adjusted without pulling to shore, but the 
captain conceived the idea of using a green piece of timber 
in making repairs. Who put that idea into the captain’s 
head, at that time? You know very well who did it. Fine 
vessels like the “Jasamine Bell” seldom, or never, stopped 
at this place, as it was only used as a landing for small boats 
with small purposes. 

Now, I have demonstrated that the tramp, the doctor, 
and the steamer, were providential, and it was also necessary 
for providential purposes, that the fat priest should waddle 
out through the wood to where Valera and Lemoine were, 
more than a mile distant. Do you have any doubts about 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. I9I 

this theory of mine? If you have/ just consider how reason- 
able it is, in the light of facts. Gintlemin,” said surprised 
Father O’Rourke, /Gight glad am I to meet you. Indade 
I did not expect to meet anyone in these dreary woods.” 
And the good priest shook hands with the sinners very cor- 
dially and vigorously. 

^‘Neither of us belong here, good father,” said Lemoine, 
when each had introduced himself to the other. ‘^We do 
not belong here, and are anxious to leave; but my friend 
is compelled to remain, and make some elaborate prepara- 
tions for the care of a sick girl, who is in his keeping, and is 
at the point of death.” 

After this came a recital of Le petite Amiee^ s misfortunes, 
which greatly interested the holy father, and when he fully 
comprehended the brutality of the girl’s would-be assassins, 
clenched his fist and became as angry as a sinner would have 
been. 

Hoi Virgin ! Mother of God!” he cried, wrathfully. 
‘‘May their black souls be forever shut away from the light 
of the Lord and the holy angels.” 

“Amen!” said Valera, but Lemoine said nothing. I 
think he was about half way reconciled to the horrors of the 
case, because of the elegant job of surgery it furnished. 

“By your lave, gintlemin, may I not see the one who has 
been so foully dealt with ? Perhaps I may be of service to 
you.” 

Without delay the strange trio started for the cabin. 
Conway met them at the door, and, after being presented to 
the new guest, said to Lemoine : “Glad to hev ye back, fer 
the little un ’s bin goin’ on awful sence ye left.” 

Lemoine administered an opA-^e, and the restless girl be- 
came quiet. ' 

The big-hearted priest was astonished that such a frail 
looking creature could be so badly wounded, and so brutally 
treated, and yet be alive. With Lemoine and the tramp, he 


192 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


was convinced that she should be removed, at once, to a 
place where she would receive the best medical aid. But 
where to, and how ? 

Beauregard entered the room and edged his way around 
in front of Father O’Rourke. He had learned that .the new 
addition was a divine, and he appeared before the group with 
eyes red with much weeping. His face was illumined with 
an original idea. 

‘‘Be ye a preacher ?” he said, addressing the good father. 

“Yis, my boy, I am a preacher, or priest of the Holy 
Catholic Church. What can I do for you ? ” 

“If yer a preacher, why in the thunder don’t yer drop 
down on yer knees an’ ask the Lord to mend up the little gal 
and make her as sound as a dollar ? ” 

Had a bombshell exploded under his chair, the good father 
would not have arisen with more alacrity, nor with a redder 
face, and he did pray, with becoming grace. 

“ Bory ! ” said Zebadee’s threatening voice. 

■ Beauregard trembled, and said softly to himself, “Pap’s 
agoin’ tew wollop me for sassin’ the preacher.” 

His father pointed his finger towards the doorway, with so 
much expression that the boy was satisfied a thrashing was in 
store for him. But the priest was not offended, and softly 
said, with great humility : 

“ My good friend, do the boy no harm, for he taught me 
a good lesson, and urged me to my duty. He was right in 
doing so, and, more than that, he has turned my thoughts 
into the right channel. On board the steamer, at the landing, 
are two sweet-tempered Sisters of Mercy, of the Hospital of 
the Good Samaritan, of Saint Louis, Mo. With me, they 
have been up the Ohio Riv/" on business connected with that 
institution. I am sure thej^ would take charge of the young 
girl if she could be removed to the hospital, where the best 
medical skill, and everything necessary to her comfort, would 
be provided. What do you say, gintlemin?” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. I 93 

‘^Just the thing,” said Lemoine ; ‘‘your plan is a good 
one.” 

“If we can manage to get her to the steamer safely,” added 
Valera. 

“There is on board the steamer a first-class stretcher, 
suitable for conveying the girl, and I think it could be done 
without much jolting. Four stout men, with four to relieve 
them, could make the trip in a short time. Shall we pro- 
ceed ? ” 

“At once,” said Lemoine, rising. 

Jezreel interposed, and insisted that all should partake of 
the repast which she had prepared. Of. course the priest was 
hungry, for the dinner hour had passed some time before. 
It was sumptuous in all respects, and the good father showed 
himself an expert in gracefully stowing away the many excel- 
lent things set before him, and, at the same time, passing 
many a well-timed remark of approval and praise, much to 
the delight of the dazzled Jezreel, who had never seen such 
great men before. She had always believed that great peo- 
ple are separated from ordinary people by a wall so high that 
the common people never get a glimpse of them. So they 
are sometimes, but dinner, like death, brings all men to a 
common level. If there is any time in the world when a 
great man is willing to lay aside predjudice and acknowledge 
the common brotherhood of the race, it is just after a boun- 
teous repast, where all the dishes have been just to suit his 
palate. Whether the dinner made the priest better able to 
perform his duties, or not, is a matter of no consequence, 
but certain it is that he entertained the group immediately 
afterwards with a glowing account of the tender mercies and 
excellent management of the “ Hospital of the Good Samari- 
tan.” Finally it was agreed that Valera and the father 
should go at once to the landing to make the necessary ar- 
rangements with the captain of the steamer, procure a 
stretcher, and bring back a sufficient number of men to make 


194 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


the trip expeditiously. Dr. Lemoine was to remain and pre- 
pare his patient for removal. No sooner were these con- 
clusions reached than executed. The captain was not espe- 
cially delighted with the idea of admitting other passengers 
until a considerable sum of money was guaranteed him, after 
which he was all smiles and condescension. The ‘‘Sisters of 
Mercy,” Catherine and Serepta, ever on the alert in deeds of 
charity, were immediately interested in the case, and insisted 
on returning through the woods with Valera to the cabin 
where the sick girl lay. But the priest forbid them doing so, 
and they busied themselves in making all possible kinds of 
arrangements for the accommodation and comfort of the pa- 
tient. A number of stout men volunteered their services, 
and more than the number required followed Valera, all 
anxious to lend aid. The sun had gone down and the cool- 
ing breezes of evening were flowing when the little proces- 
sion came in sight of the steamer on the return trip. On a 
stretcher, mute and motionless, and under the influence of 
an opiate, the slight figure of Le petite Aimee was resting. 
Those strong men bore her tenderly, and with scarcely a jos- 
tle, all the way through the wood, and placed her under the 
protecting care of the gentle Sisters of Mercy, with little or 
no additional injuries. The Conways were the unwilling re 
cipients of a handsome sum of money from Valera and 
Lemoine, who parted from them with many promises to re- 
turn and renew the acquaintance begun under such singular 
circumstances. Down Le Belle Riviere went the magnificent 
steamer to Cairo, without stopping at any point along the 
line, and here they parted company with Dr. Lemoine. 
This worthy gentleman volunteered to notify all the western 
city papers, and the police of some of the larger towns and 
cities, giving them a history of the case of Le petite Aimee, so far 
as known to them, hoping thereby to give information to her 
friends in regard to her whereabouts; but, alas, the absent- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 1 95 

minded physician, in the hurry and bustle of the hour, forgot 
all about his contract. 

From Cairo, up the Mississippi to St. Louis, Mo., the 
steamer went with, alacrity, and the wounded girl was placed, 
one morning, in a cool, clean bed, mute and helpless, yet 
alive. Oh, how tenderly those sweet-faced Sisters of Mercy 
cared for her, and what a vast difference there is between the 
care of experienced nurses and the care of inexperienced and 
incompetent nurses. 

Now, if you will pardon me, I will leave the damsel for 
a time, feeling satisfied that she will receive constant and 
tender attention during our absence. 

I have told you that Valera was a first-class printer, and 
could hold cases in the best offices in the country, and when 
at work never failed to earn good wages. He had been idle 
only a short time, and consequently had some money, but his 
new relations demanded reform on his part, and he resolved, 
for the sake of Le petite Aimee, to lead a different life, for he 
would need his money now, at least for a time. He sought 
the office of the daily Republican in search of employment, 
and was cordially received by the foreman. Perchance you 
are unaware that a printer is never an entire stranger in any 
printing office. The moment he enters a composing room, 
he is known to every compositor, that is, they know that he 
is a printer, although it be their first meeting. Another thing 
is always reasonably certain, which is, that the new comer is 
financially embarrassed. Most journeymen printers have 
made typoreal tours, and are aware of the devastating and 
depleting results of such tours. Therefore, when our tramp 
entered the composing room. Slug number four said to Slug 
number five : 

‘‘There’s one of the boys, Johnny, and he’s in hard 
luck ! ” 

“And, of course, he’ll ‘pan-handle’ the office,” said 
Slug five, feeling for a quarter. Much to their surprise, the 


196 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


tramp did not ask for money, but expressed regret at not 
being able to obtain cases, when the foreman told him the 
best they could do for him was to give him a chance to 
‘^sub” awhile. And the tramp did ‘‘sub,^’ in a most satis- 
factory manner, and in many ways showed himself master of 
the art. He became a favorite with the numerous attaches 
of the ofhce, and, one night a printer wishing to lay off, re- 
quested Valera to take his cases for a few days. When the 
first regular night’s work was ended the foreman discovered 
that Juan Valera could ‘-stick ” more solid minion and brevier 
than any man in the office. The story of his new responsi- 
bilities was known, and he had the sympathies of his fellows. 
Therefore, in the light of facts, there could be but one result, 
he was regularly employed, at good wages. In a short while 
we find him elegantly attired, with no traces of debauchery 
or dissipation upon his handsome face, as polished as Ches- 
terfield, and a most companionable fellow. His work of 
reformation was seemingly and surprisingly complete. From 
the vagabondish life of a tramp printer he had emerged to a 
higher life, and was, apparently, better adapted to play the 
role of gentleman than to drift aimlessly about without a pur- 
pose or an aim. Nature had evidently intended him to play 
an important part in the Drama of Life, but he had failed to 
live up to his opportunities. Could a man, at his age, make 
up for lost time and redeem the many wasted hours of his 
existence ? This was a question that troubled him not a little. 

Nothing will brace up good resolutions as securely and 
safely as a sense of responsibility. When the first baby 
comes into a new family, pater fatnilias^ perchance wild and 
reckless before, will sober down to business immediately, and 
begin in good earnest to work out the designs of a Creator. 
A wayward young man, suddenly elevated to a position of 
trust, if he is made of the right material, awakes to a sense 
of responsibility and developes the latent goodness of his 
character. A young woman called upon to assume the duties 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


197 


) 


of maternity, lays aside forever the frivolous ways of girlhood, 
and, with steady hand and true purpose, follows where duty 
leads, provided she is put together on the correct plan. 
Valera felt the pressure of responsibility in his work of 
reformation, and it buoyed him and made him strong ; other- 
wise I am afraid his efforts in that direction would not have 
been colossally successful. His honor was now at stake, and 
he would not fail. There was something to live for now, 
some incentive to become useful, something to do for soul 
pay — brain work and heart work, to be paid for in precious 
coin from the mint of his better self. His empty life had 
been suddenly filled with a radiance to which he had been 
a stranger, and a sweet longing to be the possessor of a strong, 
symmetrical character came to him. In time he seemed appar- 
ently 'oblivious to his past life; evil habits were abandoned, 
dark passions subdued, and in the luxury of doing good, he 
entered a new life. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

HE WAS A MAN OF NERVE. 

Several months passed away, and Ze petite Awiee was still 
confined to the hospital, with little or no hope of regaining 
her mental strength. In time her external injuries were 
healed, but it was conceded that the beautiful, soft-eyed girl 
was hopelessly insane. All day long she would sit gazing 
stupidly out the window of her cozy little room, sometimes 
muttering incoherently, occasionally speaking coherently, in 
her liquid accents, but all the time no gleam of intelligence 
could be discerned in her eyes. She was, at all times, dull, 
staring, idiotic. Once Juan Valera thought he detected a 
gleam of intelligence on her countenance as he entered her 


- 14 - 


198 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


room in company with one of the hospital saints. She raised 
her eyes and said, in soft, mournful Italian accents: ‘‘ 6^//, 
Signore^ la inta^ e troppo lunga ; sono niolto stanca fa.^^ 

Whether she was talking to him or not, he vainly hoped 
that her words were an evidence of returning reason, for, 
although she occasionally talked, it was not often with such a 
degree of coherency. Sometimes she seemed talking to her- 
self, mumbling, chattering, and wandering away down 
through the deep tangles of a disordered brain. Poor, sweet, 
lost Aimee ! fate had, indeed, dealt harshly with her. 

One day Juan Valera was surprised to find her in a state 
bordering on frenzy, gnashing her teeth, pulling her hair, and 
screaming violently. He attempted to soothe her, but, spring- 
ing upon him, she struck him a violent blow on the head with 
a billet of wood, which she had, until that moment, concealed 
in the folds of her dress. Again and again the blow was re- 
peated, and I think if the sisterhood of the institution had 
not come to his assistance, he would have fared badly. A 
noisy and fierce conflict ensued. 

‘‘Glorious Saint Michael, prince of celestial hosts, what 
means this ? ’’ cried good Sister Serepta, excitedly, as she en- 
tered the room. 

“Blessed mother of God, help us!’’ cried angelic Sister 
Rosamond, as she battled with the crazy girl. 

“Saint Catherine, bride of Christ! Come just now,” ex- 
claimed Sister Frances, as the demented creature struck her 
in the pit of the stomach with the billet of wood. 

“Sweet heart of Jesus and Mary, be my refuge,” said 
Sister Saint Gertrude, repeating the language of a prayer in- 
stinctively. “Mercy, oh Jesus! Holy Virgin, protect thy 
daughters.” 

“Oh may the holy angels and the shining hosts of heaven 
be round about her,” said the wonderfully soft-tongued Sister 
Catherine, devoutly crossing herself, after Aimee had been 
secured and a watch placed at her side to prevent further 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


199 


harm. ‘^The mercies of the Lord are in the hands of Mary, 
in her bosom is a shelter for the weak and weary, and from 
her comes mercy, and peace, and eternal life. She is the 
hope of all that lives and the resurrection of the dead. 
Blessed Peter, keeper of the key of the gate of heaven, for- 
give our sins and bring us to God. Give us strength to pro- 
tect and keep this poor girl from danger. Subdue her spirit 
and illumine her darkened understanding with the light of 
heaven. Train our hearts in the way of virtue, and save us 
in heaven.” 

Juan Valera was painfully hurt and bled profusely, but a 
free use of cold water brought him around all right. Her 
first, unexpected blow was upon his temple, and was so 
fierce that it rendered him, for a time, incapable of self- 
preservation. Ever afterward he carried a deep scar on his 
head, of which he was quite proud. The good sisters were 
exceedingly nervous after this outbreak, when in the pres- 
ence of Ls petite Aimee^ and wanted to confine her to a cell 
should another attack come upon her, a proposition which 
was not received with favor by Juan Valera, whose blood ran 
cold with horror when he thought of beholding the beautiful 
creature in such abject confinement. He prevailed upon the 
Sisters to keep closer watch upon her movements, and it was 
agreed that she should never be left alone. Saints Catherine 
and Serepta were employed to give her close attention, and 
he paid them handsomely for their services and for their 
motherly care. The soul of Father O’Rourke was greatly 
troubled when he heard of the violent outbreak, and he pre- 
dicted that she would become more violent as time passed 
away. After much conference and counsel it was decided 
that she be placed in a private asylum, which was properly 
equipped for handling the incurably insane, kept by a well- 
known physician who had retired from the active duties of 
his profession, and was giving his undivided attention to 
brain diseases; namely, M. Guzoit, a wealthy Frenchman, 


200 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


who was greatly beloved for his amiable qualities and highly 
respected for his skill as a physician. His place was one of 
the loveliest of the kind in the country, and everything that 
wealth could do had been done to adorn and beautify the 
house and its surroundings. The rooms were elegantly fur- 
nished throughout, and ample arrangements had been made 
for controlling vicious patients, but the horrible necessities of 
the place were as much concealed as possible. Father 
O’Rourke had, on various occasions, had ample opportuni- 
ties to investigate the merits of this asylum, and had found it 
to be as near his ideal mad-house as a man could erect. 

Juan Valera was convinced that such a place would afford 
vastly superior advantages, and, in company with Father 
O’Rourke, called at the place. The matron of the establish- 
ment, M. Guzoit’s wife, was glad to receive visitors in her 
best parlors, and was a good friend to the holy father, who 
had placed several patients under their charge. M. Guzoit 
greeted his visitors in a cordial manner. Only a few patients 
were now in the building, and they were from families of 
wealthy people, kept there by persons who were able to pay 
for the somewhat expensive privileges and accommodations. 
Valera was highly pleased with the place; found the patients 
exceedingly docile, apparently satisfied with their surround- 
ings, and the exceeding urbanity of M. Guzoit and wife won 
his admiration. Concluding that they were the right kind of 
people in the right place, he accepted their terms, and made 
arrangements for Aimee's removal. Now, the Sisters of 
Mercy were sorely grieved to learn that they were to lose 
their beloved patient, for whom they had labored so long and 
patiently, and whom they loved so dearly; but they found 
consolation in the knowledge that she would be in competent 
hands, that a herculean effort would be made to restore her 
to reason, and that her new home afforded all the facilities 
for bringing about the desired result. It was agreed that the 
transfer of their precious Aimee should be made at night, 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


201 


when the city would be quiet, and all the conditions most 
favorable. On the evening of Aimee^s departure, the sisters 
each bade her an affectionate farewell, kissing her tenderly 
and speaking soft, soothing w’ords to her, which she could 
neither understand nor appreciate. 

‘‘When the afflicted come to us,” said Sister Serepta, “ the 
soul of the blessed Virgin is pleading with us for mercy. If 
we give them soft words and gentle care, the peace of God 
is with us. Angels be with thee, my daughter ! ” And she 
kissed her passionately, again and again, weeping bitterly the 
while. “Saints and angels be with thee,” said dove-eyed 
Sister Aurelia, as she touched the white forehead with her 
lips. 

“Gracious mother of God, to thee we commit this dear 
one. Host of Heaven be with her,” said prayerful Saint 
Catherine. 

“May her soul dwell forever in the shadow of the Holy 
Virgin,” said Sister Rosamond, softly stroking Aimee^s silken 
tresses. 

“Son of Mary, immaculate Christ, abide with this ewe 
lamb, who has left her earthly fold and cannot return,” said 
Sister Frances. 

“Adorable Son of the Mother of us all, let the darkened 
chambers of her soul be filled with that blessed light that illu- 
mines the souls of the just, keeps the way of the pure in 
heart, and at last gives us the eternal joys of Heaven,” said 
fervent Sister Louisa. 

Thus, one by one, the sisters took final leave of the girl, 
each with sensations of motherly love in her heart for the un- 
fortunate one who had been so near to them. They had 
never loved any patient so dearly as they had loved Le petite 
Aimee ; her undone condition had won their sympathies. 

At ten o’clock a cab stood at a door of the hospital, and 
the patient wa^ placed in it and whirled away, all unconscious 
of temporal or spiritual things. 


202 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


She awoke next morning in a strangely beautiful place, 
but there was no evidence that she noticed the change. Val- 
era was perfectly satisfied that his charge was in a most 
proper place, and was quite anxious to learn if the scientific 
skill of M. Guzoit would prove available in restoring Ainiee 
to reason. His expenses were necessarily great, and he was 
aware that he would be compelled to work industriously in 
order to provide for himself and his charge. He was not 
disheartened, notwithstanding the fact that his ability to earn 
money had never been put to such a severe test, and he did 
not doubt for a moment but that he would be able to meet 
his expenses without hardship; so, with strong arms and 
good intentions, he labored on. He had learned to love the 
sweet-faced girl, in a kind of a way, and felt that her destiny 
and his destiny were to be indissoluble. 

For more than a year there was but little change in the 
situation. Regularly he had visited the Guzoit place, and 
always with the same result, or, rather, with no result, 
for he was informed each time that the patient did not 
improve. On all occasions he found her dull and seemingly 
oblivious to her surroundings. He was informed that she ' ^ 
had violent attacks, during which she became almost unman- 
ageable ; ordinarily, however, she was submissive. On the 
occasion of each visit he went away with a sad heart ; to see 
her thus was, in itself, a source of great pain ; to feel that 
she would never regain the use of her mental faculties was 
infinitely more painful. He did not have time to get dis- 
couraged; his duties were too pressing, and with true Spartan 
heroism and, I was about to say, stoicism, he continued his 
labor of love, feeling that in keeping her where she would 
receive the best attention he was doing his whole duty. He 
had made some inquiry, with a view of obtaining a knowl- 
edge of Aimee’s home and friends, but, having left the mat- 
ter of investigation in the hands of Dr. Lemoine, he had not 
been as zealous in the matter as he would otherwise have 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


203 


been. Of one thing he was about convinced, that the girl 
had been brought by the would-be assassins from Louisville, 
Kentucky, although the men went away in an opposite direc- 
tion. About a year after he had arrived at this conclusion, 
he thought of making a personal effort to find her friends in 
that city, and in order to do that he wrote a lengthy letter to 
the Chief of Police, and gave him a full history of the case. 
Greatly to his surprise he received a letter from that worthy 
which seemed to throw a strong light on the mystery. It 
read thus : 

Police Headquarters, Louisville, Ky. 
Juan Valera, SL Louis, Mo. 

Dear Sir. — In answer to your letter of advice, will say that you 
have thrown a great light on a great mystery. On the night of July 
fourth, 18 — , a young woman, answering accurately your description, 
disappeared from this place in a very mysterious manner, and, despite 
all our efforts, we have never been able to find a clew to her where- 
abouts, my men never deeming it necessary to hunt outside the city 
for her. She was an actress, very beautiful, talented, and spoke sev- 
eral languages, and was most fluent in French. She had many admir- 
ers, but refused all offers of marriage, as she was striving to rise in her 
profession. I think she was certainly of French descent, and her 
name was Amelia Burgoyne. She had only one relative here — her 
aged mother — who survived her daughter’s disappearance only a short 
time, and left no property. The girl wore a costly diamond ring on 
the index finger of the right hand — a present from an admirer. She 
had it on the night of her disappearance, and there is no doubt in my 
mind but that she was decoyed into some vile place in this city, robbed, 
and, perhaps, outraged, and in resisting, was dangerously injured and 
seemingly murdered. This is my theory, and was at the time, for, on 
the evening of her disappearance, one of the force noticed her entering 
what was known to him as a house of bad repute. When the news of 
the girl’s disappearance reached us, I had the inmates of the disrepu- 
table house I mention arrested, but they protested their innocence, and, 
as we had only strong suspicion against them, were compelled to let 
them go free. You undoubtedly have this girl in your possession, but, 
as her friends would have no interest in her now, and as her only rela- 
tion is dead, I think you had better allow her to remain in St. Louis, 
in some public asylum, unless she regains her reason, in which case 


204 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON.* 


she would return here. Anything further from you will be thankfully 
received. Yours, truly, 

BENJ. F. DAVIS. 

P. S. — Since writing the above have learned from a former com- 
panion of the girl’s, that she has a small wart on the front left side of 
her head, which is not visible except when the hair is brushed aside. 

B. F. D., Chief of Police. 

Valera had noticed a costly diamond ring on the girl's 
hand as she lay upon the ground where the villains sought to 
bury her. It flashed and sparkled in the light of the lantern. 
Had heard one of the men say when he pulled it off : 
^‘Boys, it’s a regular sparkler, and worth enough to build a 
house.” To which the voice from the tomb made answer, 
and said : Better throw it away; sich things air sometimes 

easy to ’dentify, and often git a man’s throat in the noose.” 
He had never noticed the wart spoken of by the chief of 
police, but on the occasion of his next visit to the asylum, 
spoke of the matter, and Madame Guzoit made an examina- 
tion of the girl’s head, and sure enough, on the left side of 
her head, well concealed, was a wart. These things con- 
vinced Valera that he had solved the mystery connected with 
the affair, discovered the real name of the unfortunate young 
woman, and, also, that she was to be a perpetual charge to 
him unless he chose to turn her over to some charitable in- 
stitution, Why should he care for Amelia Burgoyne ? Who 
\N2iSshe? Why should he toil unceasingly for her comfort 
and welfare ? She was a stranger, an actress, without home 
or friends; an outcast from society; a chattering idiot, with 
no hope of rising above the mental status of an idiot, under 
any circumstances. After all, would she not fare as well in 
a public mad-house ? Were they not all fitted up expensively 
and with a view of providing for every demand of the unfor- 
tunates, in a most humane manner? Certainly they were, 
and why should he be so much concerned about this lovely 
actress, who had been fastened upon him in such a strange 
way? For a moment, a fierce longing to go back to his old 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


205 


vagabondish ways, returned; and he thought of the old days 
when he wandered, free from care, by the side of mountain 
streams ; or through green meadows ; or slept in the soft sum- 
mer night by the hedge ; with no other ambition than to en- 
joy life, in his own way, and to acknowledge responsibility to 
no man. But the struggle was brief ; striking the table be- 
fore him with his clenched fist, he said, hotly: ‘^No! by 
the gods I am a new man. The old man of the past is buried 
forever. Henceforth I shall live to be useful, or not at all. I 
will be to her a true friend, and nothing shall tempt me from 
the path of my chosen duty. I will never forsake her. She 
is helpless and friendless, and I have none other to love, or 
befriend.’’ And Valera mused away, in communion with his 
better self, until he was strong again. But the pathway of 
Jean Valera was not to be strewn with flowers. He little 
thought that Providence would interfere with his interests and 
purposes; but such was the case. Perhaps it was the will of 
Providence, that he should be put to a severe test; that his 
strong nature should receive burdens almost too great for hu- 
man nature to bear. 

I think it was more than two years after he entered the 
office of the daily Republican^ when his troubles commenced. 
Up to this time he had been able to meet his current expenses 
and lay by, each week, a snug sum for a ‘Hainy day.” By 
and by the rainy day” came, and it came with great force. 

One night he was not in his accustomed place, but was 
lying on his bed at the hotel flushed with fever, which hung 
to him for more than two months, leaving him weak and ex- 
hausted, both physically and financially. His reserve fund 
had dwindled away, but he was not in debt, being able to 
liquidate every claim against him. Before he was sufficiently 
recuperated he returned to his cases at the Republican office, 
and, for awhile, worked far beyond his strength, thinking to 
make up for lost time. I think he would have regained his 
former strength, and, perhaps, been stronger than before, had 


2o6 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


he been prudent, but he was not prudent. Constant expo- 
sure and overwork brought on an attack of rheumatism in his 
leg (not the cork one), and he suffered intensely. Each of 
my readers who have had rheumatism in his leg will under- 
stand what I mean, when I say that he suffered intensely. He 
struggled bravely to stand up to his work, having always be- 
fore him the pale, pleading face of Amelia Burgoyne ; for her 
sake he must walk and not faint, for her he must be brave, and 
suffer all pain, that she might remain, at her beautiful home, 
under the care of M. Guzoit and his wife. If his own wel- 
fare had been at stake, he could have had time to rest, but as 
it was, there was absolutely no stopping place ; he must work 
or relinquish his cherished designs. He must work con- 
stantly or see his Le petite Aimee drift into the keeping of 
others, and become an object of the most abject charity, and, 
strange as it may seem, he did not, under the circumstances, 
consider her an object of charity. His earnings decreased, 
on account of his inability to work with his usual vigor; he 
received a stipulated sum for every thousand ‘‘m’s’’ placed 
on his ^‘galleys,’’ and, therefore, he was interested in the 
arithmetic of his labors. I think rheumatism an invention of 
Satan, and can not believe that it was ever intended as an 
instrument to be used in carrying out the designs of our 
Heavenly Father, although I am aware that many well-mean- 
ing persons hold that tribulation is necessary to the develop- 
ment of Christian character. I am sorry to say that it did 
not cause Valera to assume a heavenly frame of mind, for he 
swore viciously whenever the intolerable pains would seize 
him. This is one reason why I think it can not be utilized 
as a means of grace. I admit that I have seen several old, 
and a few young persons, who were all drawn out of shape 
by the terrible disease, and they were of good repute, and re- 
tained a true Christian character. Yet, I firmly believe that 
these persons could have been consistent Christians if they 
had never been chastened and purified by rheumatism. I 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


207 


do not think any man ever fully realized how vain and fleet- 
ing were the things of time, until he suffered with rheuma- 
tism or neuralgia. And he never understood, fully, the reason 
why good people were ready and anxious to enter upon the 
duties of the celestial world until rheumatism singled him out 
from among the gay and thoughtless throng. After awhile 
the pains, pangs and penalties shifted to Valera’s shoulder 
and arm, and if it had been troublesome before, it was now 
doubly so, insomuch as it directly interfered with his work, 
for he used his left hand in holding his composing stick, and, 
while it was not in active motion, yet he must use it, and 
every time he moved that arm it caused him intense pain. 

His situation was becoming very unpleasant; he could 
scarcely meet his expenses, although he had removed his 
quarters to the cheapest boarding house to be found. The 
merry click, click, click of the metal as it went into his com- 
posing stick had dwindled down to what sounded to him like 
a laborious thud, thud, thud, and it was, indeed, slow work. 
The numerous typos in the office were sympathetic, and 
would, doubtless, have aided him very materially, had he 
complained or asked for help ; but not being fully aware of 
Valera’s pressing need, contented themselves by words of 
sincere sympathy, which were received gratefully, but with a 
conscious knowledge that they were of no financial benefit, and 
could not be used to his advantage at his boarding house, nor 
to pay M. Guzoit’s charges. A certain amount must be earned 
each month, to pay Aimee’s keepers, and as this was now 
about equal to the amount earned by him, his own expenses 
must be lessened in some way. The keeper of the boarding 
house, with an eye single to business, and exclusive to sym- 
pathy, demanded prompt payment at the end of each week. 

One week, in setting aside the usual amount for M. Guzoit, 
he found himself one dollar short. What could he do ? Im- 
portune some brother printer fior the shortage? Never 1 
During his career as a typo, he had been too high minded to 


2o8 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


accept aid from any source. The pawn-broker had been his 
friend in times past; why not use him now? A silver watch 
and gold chain of best make were immediately offered a 
hook-nose gentleman, whose rabinical appearance was the 
only element of honesty about him. Valera was offered five 
dollars and accepted it. This bridged the chasm for a week, 
bub to his dismay, he found his left arm growing worse and 
the pain of a more excruciating character. On Monday and 
Tuesday nights he managed to hold his composing stick, 
but on Wednesday night found it impossible to raise the 
offending arm to the top of his case. Against the earnest 
protest of his fellows he continued work, using only his right 
arm, making a feeble endeavor to earn something, in this un- 
natural and laborious way. He was allowed to hold his case 
because he had won the esteem of every one connected with 
the establishment and his services seemed indispensable. At 
the end of the week he found his earnings much less than on 
the previous week ; he was several dollars short of enough to 
pay M. Guzoit; and a monthly payment was now due. He 
visited the rabinical pawn-broker and secured five dollars on 
a fine overcoat, which, added to his accumulations, was 
enough to pay M. Guzoit. But only one dollar remained. 
A week’s board bill was due. What should he do ? How 
could he face the musical instrument at his boarding house ? 
But he did, and was told that he must change his lodging 
place and he did so, that is, he made headquarters aPthe Re- 
publicafi office building, and, during each day, found an op- 
portunity to take a nap, in various out-of-the-way places. He 
could not descend to the free lunch-counter, but lunched on 
cheese and crackers, and every thing, and any thing, that 
was cheap and could be used as food. But this way of liv- 
ing was not satisfactory to Dame Nature, and as Valera’s 
blood was imj. overished he could not hope to become rugged 
again unless he had proper food and a reasonable amount of 
sleep. But he plodded along, sometimes not being able to 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


209 


work more than one hour in twenty-f<jur, and earning 
scarcely enough to keep soul and body together. Simpson, 
the foreman, asked him if it would not be better for him to 
rest up awhile, and Valera answered that that would be the 
worst thing for him to do, that the way to get rid of rheuma- 
tism was to work and keep the joints limber. Not a single 
typo knew that their highly esteemed fellow-craftsman was at 
the point of starvation, and mentally tortured because of 
anxiety about the unfortunate Aimee. You see he was one 
of those men who retain their own affairs, even from near 
friends, having about him an air of good breeding and cour- 
tesy, which made his private affairs not matters of public in- 
terest. For he said to the inquisitive by action, ‘‘All things 
are lawful in daily converse save my private affairs, therefore, 
spare my feelings by conversing about other matters.” 

Weeks went by without bringing relief, and his strength 
was barely enough to earn the meager pittance for his own 
scanty fare, and he became discouraged. Not being able to 
meet the monthly charges of M. Guzoit, he told that gentle- 
man the exact condition of affairs, and was told to free his 
mind altogether from the matter until he was strong enough 
to work again. M. Guzoit further said that usually he was 
very strict about money matters, but he had become strongly 
interested in the case of Le petite Awiee, and would not will- 
ingly see her placed in a public asylum. Much relieved, 
Valera returned to the Republican office, and on that very 
night his rheumatism shifted to his right shoulder, and he was 
as helpless as a baby, so far as earning a livelihood was con- 
cerned. Then, of course, you say he stated his case to the 
printers and accepted their aid, but such was not the case . 
He loafed around amongst them, the hungriest man that ever 
resisted the temptation to eat from a charity bread-basket, 
and good humoredly bore his afflictions. He would rather 
starve than beg, but one of his comrades noticed that he was 
growing thinner and paler ; it was Burrows, a good natured,- 


210 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


free, and loose kind of a young man, who was a friend to 
everybody except himself. Burrows told his comrades that 
Valera looked hungry, and was sure the man was suffering 
for proper food. The boys, one and all, besought Valera to 
allow them to aid him, but he hotly refused, saying that he 
would be all right in a short time ; but continued exposure, 
loss of sleep, and want of nourishing food, caused him to 
grow weaker daily, and one night he fainted in the composing 
room. He was starving. 

Perhaps he was a fool after all. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

A PORTRAIT UNVEILED. 

Thalia Graydon O’Leeds, as she called herself, was an 
artist of rare culture and attainment, and would, undoubtedly, 
have made a sensation in the world of art, if she had not, in 
an evil hour, consented to enter the realm of wedlock — a place 
where so much ‘‘sweetness is wasted on the desert air,” and 
so many double roses “blush unseen,” and so much soul-life 
is crushed by the weight of hum-drum responsibilities. Not- 
withstanding the disadvantages of married life, she had made 
rapid progress in her beloved profession, and had executed 
many fine pictures, for which she had received much praise 
and some money ; the praise came from high sources in the 
ranks of her fraternity, and the money from people who were 
desirous of purchasing a reputation for culture, and a stand- 
ing in fashionable society, as cheaply as possible. 

Now, I think I have established the fact that the Gray- 
dons were all high tension people, each after a different de- 
sign, and Thalia was more passionate and more in earnest, 
than any other member of the family. Spirituality was 
dreamy and passive, and bewitchingly beautiful, in the black- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


2 I I 


eyed Sybarite, Aggie ; but Thalia’s spirituality was active, and 
demanded exercise and air; she was less dreamy than Aggie, 
more enthusiastic and sincere than Frossie had been, and 
with a greater capacity to love than either. When her friends 
called to see her they were sure to find the hazel- haired 
beauty in her studio, hard at work, touching and retouching, 
with master hand, the exquisite paintings abounding there. 
Everything, from a calico cow to a hawk-headed goddess of 
the Nile, was deemed of sufficient importance to be finished 
with patience and skill. Therefore, she had that estimable 
boon, force of character, and’ a thorough training, by com- 
petent teachers, had developed her to a great extent, and, as 
I said awhile ago, marriage was the only obstacle which she 
could not overcome, and which denied her a place among 
the stars. Her studio was a splendidly lighted room, ex- 
pensively furnished and lavishly adorned with pictures of her 
own handiwork. Nymphs, fauns, and other sleepy creatures, 
dog-faced deities, pictures after the old masters, landscapes 
and portraits were scattered around in profusion, charming 
the eye and satisfying the most critical lover of the beautiful. 
She excelled in portrait painting, and would surely have 
become known to fame, had it not been for the impediment 
already mentioned. Of late she had been absorbed in the 
painting of a portrait — so intensely absorbed that she could 
not keep her mind and heart away from her work ; the. sub- 
ject was with her continually, although invisible to other eyes. 
She was painting a presence, and this ‘‘presence in the 
room ” was not dimly defined, but came to her clearly and 
with certainty ; in the morning, at noon, in the dewy evening, 
and in the silent watches of the night, it came, noiselessly 
poising in the air, with an old-time grace and expression, 
pleading with dumb lips and bringing sight to sense, and un- 
derstanding to the accoustic apparatus of the soul. It was 
the form of her loved and lost sister, Frossie. Yes, the spirit 
of Frossie Graydon was in the air, the tomb could not hold 


212 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


her from the eyes of the loving Thalia, and so upon the can- 
vas grew the features, so animated and wonderful in life, so 
sacred and worshipful in death. The grave is not deep 
enough to hold our dead ; from the dim corridors of the dark 
world they come, and Heaven is not high enough to hide 
them from our view; neither depth, nor heighth, nor length, 
nor breadth, nor darkness, nor anything can keep the dead 
from the living. The eyes of love follow the vanishing forms 
through the gates of the tomb, and they return in bright ha- 
biliments, when they have tasted the fruits of the resurrec- 
tion. Love will have it this way, and love is the only safe 
anchor, the only guide to the royal highway of the celestial 
city, and let us, with fear and trembling, realize that we are 
always in the sacred presence of our dead. 

Little Frossie Graydon O’Leeds, the fair-haired daughter 
of the artistic young lady, was a source of constant delight 
to her mother; more of a delight than was Tiberius, Jr., the 
younger of the two children. Thalia would have it that little 
Frossie was the very image of the one who was sleeping so 
quietly out yonder in the cemetery, although I am sure she 
was mistaken ; the hair was several shades darker, and the 
eyes were not so sparkling, nor so velvety blue ; she had some 
of the characteristics of the elder Frossie, and what nature 
failed to reproduce Thalia’s imagination supplied. Who has 
not traced the lineaments of a dead friend, on the counte- 
nance and in the actions of the living? Love deciphers 
what nature withholds, when the spirit of the dead controls 
the will ; and the color of the eyes, the flowing tresses of hair, 
tones of voice, movements of the body — as remembered 
things from the old days — are molded anew in the fervency 
of the brain and heart, and transferred to the living, by those 
who love and worship at an empty shrine. 

Aggie and her two children were living at the family 
mansion, and had been since the departure of Weiler; and 
the four children were petted and spoiled by Nathaniel, and 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


213 


carefully trained and cared for by Minerva, who, on more 
than one occasion, had spanked them with genuine, orthodox 
enthusiasm, with a view to enlarging their moral sensibilities, 
and increasing their capacities for heeding religious instruc- 
tion, but they loved her very dearly nevertheless. Terp had 
learned to endure them; in fact she had learned to endure 
everything, even the geese in the barnyard. Geese and chil- 
dren occupied about the same place in her affections, though 
I think her preference was strongly in favor of the geese. 
To the geese and children she was alike indifferent, being 
altogether interested in the dissolving views of her matrimon- 
ial schemes, of which she was excessively prolific, and wholly 
unconcerned as to results and comments, or criticism of her 
friends. 

Probably you have wondered why Germain dropped out 
of the story so unceremoniously. However, he ’s to blame for 
my seeming neglect, and I do not think ^ review of his daily 
life would either be interesting or edifying to the reader. In 
fact, I do not think you would care to hear anything further 
about him if you knew the truth, for when you knew him he 
was a noble specimen of manhood. Since then, I am sorry 
to relate, he has degenerated to a level with the brutes. Shut 
suddenly away from the anticipated bliss of wedded life, with 
all its promises of good, with all its wealth of happiness, his 
passionate nature gave way, and he sought relief in the cir- 
cean cup. He loved Frossie Graydon, and it broke his heart to 
give her up ; his blood was frozen by the great and enduring 
agony which had fallen upon him ; and the gloom that sur- 
rounded him was impenetrable and pathless. Like countless 
numbers of other men he sought relief in oblivion ; and mis- 
ery preserved in alcohol will keep indefinitely ; so Germain 
found it. It was a horrible thing for him to lose all self re- 
spect, and be willing to reel through the streets, a common 
sot, but he cared for nothing; the panorama of life was pass- 
ing slowly; he saw, each day, pictures of men, women, and 


— 15 — 


214 


THE HOUSE OF GRAVDON. 


children, painted landscapes, animals of all kinds, creeping 
along the streets, or feeding in pastures done in oil ; amid 
the busy whirl of the business world he was alone, gazing 
stolidly, indifferently, and with drunken stupidity, at the 
shifting scenes of the sliding canvas, whereon the dead 
things of time were slipping into eternity. He had adopted 
a cowardly policy, for any man is a coward who can not meet 
his destiny face to face. With fatalistic certainty he was 
losing his grip on the world ; day by day he became less sen- 
sible to shame, and the pictures around him became less at- 
tractive; and his friends were less anxious to save him 
from what seemed inevitable ruin. Day by day the poor fel- 
low watched the panorama of passing events with dull eyes 
and dazed intellect; to him life was ended, and he prayed 
for the time to come when the fleeting show, on the whirling 
canvas, would grow dark and cease to be. He only knew 
that he was alone with a great sorrow, and, in a weak, human 
way, was striving to find, upon the waves of Lethe, a balm 
for his wounded and broken life. Blame him not; his ideas 
were intensely human, and by no means original. 

Thalia Graydon O’Leeds sat one evening, gazing, Parrha- 
sius-like, upon her canvas, dreaming of the days when the 
sweet face before her was a reality ; her day’s task was ended, 
and she was weary. Her easel was in front of her, but she 
was not in her studio; in this room she had worked at the 
portrait before her. It was an elegant apartment, with soft, 
noiseless carpets, and deep, luxurious rugs of elegant designs 
upon the floor ; the fire-place was a thing of beauty, the tiles 
being covered with bright flowers. The furniture was unique, 
and on the walls was a costly Venetian mirror, with here 
and there a costly, deep-toned painting. A metal pot full of 
cat-tails stood on the floor, and a bunch of peacock feathers 
stood near the easel in a large brazen vase. A book-case, 
filled with choice literature, stood on one side of the room, 
and several easy chairs indicated that it was a family resort; 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 215 

such was not a literal fact, although O’Leeds and others of 
the family sometimes found it pleasant to while away the 
evening in this apartment with Thalia. 

Tiberius came to this room on this particular evening, 
and, after giving his wife the usual amount of praise and ex- 
travagant promises of future glory, said gravely : 

‘O saw poor Germain this evening, and he was so thor- 
oughly under the influence that he did not recognize me, al- 
though I passed him face to face.” 

^‘Poor fellow, he will grieve himself to death; can not 
something be done for him, for her sake ? She loved him so 
dearly.” 

Every effort to save him has been of no avail; I can not 
give him up, but in my opinion he will not reform, and you 
must be prepared to hear of his death in some horrible way.” 

‘‘Oh, Tiberius, we must save him. There is within him 
the elements of true nobility, and if we can make him see his 
error, the wrong he is doing himself and society, will he not 
pause, at least to consider the counsel of his friends?” 

“We have tried every plan and device to win him from 
his cups, but without success. Yesterday morning I met him 
and talked long and earnestly with him, pleading as I would 
with my own brother, for I feel as deeply interested in him 
as if he were my very own brother. He seemed to care 
nothing for my talk, merely remarking, with a melancholy 
shake of the head,* ‘ The game ’s up, and the play is about 
played out,’ after which he left me and entered a saloon.” 

“Oh, Tiberius,” cried Thalia, actually shedding tears, 
“he is surely killing himself with his morbid fancies and 
excessive drinking. How sad it is to think that we have not 
been willing to lay aside every selfish project and pleasure, 
and devote our entire time and attention to him — our noble 
brother, who has been so harshly dealt with, and whose 
strength gave way under his load.” 

“Do not blame yourself, Thalia, for what can not be 


2i6 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


remedied; we have done our duty, and will continue to do 
so, but how can we be of any service to him or bring him 
again to the right path, unless he is willing to accept our 
advice and company ? He refuses to visit or receive visits 
from us, simply because he feels his own degradation and 
shame.’’ 

“We must in some way get him under our influence; 
invite him to visit our home ; take no excuse ; he must and 
shall come, and by constant appeal to his better nature, I am 
sure we shall win our cause.” 

“ And my little diplomat will outgeneral King Alcohol,” 
said O’Leeds, rapturously. “But how can we get him into 
our house ?” 

“ Remember our arrangement for surprising father, who 
knows nothing about this portrait; on the evening of the 
fourth day of July we will take it to the drawing-room with a 
heavy veil about it. Invite Germain here to see the picture. 
He will not refuse.” 

“A capital idea,” said Tiberius, but further conversation 
was interrupted by the entrance of little Frossie, who climbed 
upon her mother’s lap and said, looking at the portrait : 

“ Mamma, that’s big me again?” 

“Yes, darling, that’s big me,” said Thalia, smiling, for 
she remembered telling the little one, a few days previous, 
that the portrait would he her image when she become a 
young lady. 

It was now late in June, and Tiberius O’ Leeds was deter- 
mined that his wife’s plans should be fully tested, and sought 
Germain immediately, and found him on the verge of “jim- 
jams,” entirely disqualified for understanding an invitation, 
or anything else, for that matter. But not discouraged, the 
Good Samaritan tried again and again, until Germain 
promised to attend the ceremony of unveiling the portrait of 
his unfortunate Frossie. To see again that lovely face, even 
though it could not speak to him the familiar words of love. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


217 


was a thing the poor inebriate could not resist. No other 
consideration would have been strong enough to draw him 
away, for an evening, from his drunken companions and the 
saloon. With great joy Tiberius hastened to inform his 
wife of his success, and Thalia cautioned her husband to 
watch Germain sharply when the time came for the fulfill- 
ment of the promise. But the stubbornly dissipated young 
man required no watching, and prepared to appear before his 
old-time friends sober, and with an air of respectability. It 
requires some nerve and heroic fortitude for an inebriate to 
sober up, for a special occasion, and Germain was full of 
dead liquor when the appointed day arrived, therefore, he 
was intensely miserable and moody. 

On the evening of the fourth day of July, the entire 
family, including Germain, assembled in the drawing-room, 
at the request of Thalia and Aggie. Minerva was just the 
same as when we first met her in the opening chapter, though 
a little paler, and, perhaps, a trifle careworn, but there was 
about her the same air of patient resignation and Christian 
fortitude. That she had been tortured almost beyond human 
endurance by the cruel fate of her beloved daughter, was un- 
doubtedly true ; that she had conquered self by faith, was 
apparent. The four children were special objects of her af- 
fection, and this evening she gave them more than usual at- 
tention. • Germain was reserved, and had but little to say in 
answer to the queries of his friends. With all the nervousness 
of one who is harrowed by conscious guilt, and unstrung by 
debauchery and dissipation, he awaited the beginning of the 
end, glancing ever and anon at the veiled canvas that hung 
on an easel in the corner of the room. His usually handsome 
form and face were still handsome, although the marks of 
dissipation were plainly visible, and his evident embarrass- 
ment made him an object of deep solicitude on the part of 
his gentle friends. 

Nathaniel Graydon was seated in a large arm chair, and. 


2i8 the house of graydon. 

I am sorry to say, in personal appearance he was not as be- 
coming as in other days ; his clothing was not properly ad- 
justed, nor was he as trim and polished as in former times; 
his general appearance indicated that he was growing care- 
less about his attire ; his face was hard set, and about the 
corners of his mouth was a sinister expression ; he had never 
rallied from the blow received in the loss of his daughter, 
and it was evident that the sarcasm of destiny rested heavily 
upon him. Of late, in spite of his wife’s prayers and en- 
treaties, he had become a convert to the sophistries of infi- 
delity, or at least was ready to abandon his faith in the 
fatherhood of God. This evening he found a passage in the 
elder Pliny, which suited him so well that he read it aloud ; 
it was in the following terrible language : 

“All religion is the offspring of necessity, weakness and fear. 
What God is, if in truth he be anything distinct from the world ! is 
beyond the compass of man’s understanding to know! But it is a 
foolish delusion, which has sprung from human weakness, and hu- 
man pride, to imagine that such an infinite spirit would concern him- 
self about the petty affairs of men. The vanity of man, and his 
insatiable longing after existence, have led him, also, to dream of a 
life after death. A being full of contradictions, he is the most 
wretched of creatures, since the other creatures have no wants 
transcending the bounds of their nature. Man is full of desires that 
reach to infinity, and can never be satisfied. His nature is a lie unit- 
ing the greatest poverty with the greatest pride. Among these so 
great evils, the best thing God has bestowed on man is the power to 
take his own life.” 

“Exactly, exactly ! ” said Nathaniel, laying aside the book. 
“ Pliny tells the truth, and though the truth is very bitter 
sometimes, we must accept it because it is the truth.” 

P Nathaniel,” said Minerva, “dost know that truth is 
from God, and that vain sophistry is from man ? Who fol- 
lows the way of truth will find God. The doctrines of infi- 
delity are bubbles that float majestically into the air, some- 
times very beautiful, and yet they are empty nothings that 
pass away as flames of spent candles, leaving mankind in 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


219 


darkness more terrible than would have been had their 
torches of philosophy never been lighted.’^ 

‘^Biit all things are subject to decay and change, therefore 
the ideas of men must change, and their doctrines decay. 
Truth, alone, is immutable, and will finally triumph. Skepti- 
cism is blazing a road to a new heaven, and if the advocates 
of infidelity are mistaken, their doctrines will pass away to 
give room to better ideas. All fallacious things must pass 
away; such is the process of truth.” 

‘‘ Dost remember,” said Minerva, these words, ‘ Heaven 
and earth shall pass away, but my word shall not pass away ? ’ 
Nathaniel, search not in vain philosophy after God ; He is not 
there; in the depths of your own heart thou mayest find him. 
Time is too short to blaze new ways to Heaven ; the old way 
is safe for travel, and a very pleasant thoroughfare it is. A 
star went before the wise men of the East, and stood over 
the place where the young child lay; the celestial infant went 
out of the cave of beasts into the Bible, and the same star 
came and stood over the place where the young child is 
lying, directing, not only the wise, but all men to Heaven. 
False philosophy will fade and pass away, the demi-gods of 
fame will mingle their bones in the dust without having done 
anything for their kind except creating doubt, distrust, and 
dismay. Why read Pliny when you have St. Paul ? Why 
read Voltaire when you have Solomon? Why read Ingersoll 
when you have Isaiah ? Christ is down among men ; God is 
above the stars. You may find God, if you choose, but it 
must be through Christ.” 

‘‘If God is so good, and so compassionate, and so un- 
willing to suffer injustice, why did he snatch Frossie from my 
arms and from my life, and make my old age so barren and 
bitter? Why did he change the current of my being and 
leave me a sordid wretch, quibbling about the road to Heaven, 
and writhing under the lash of destiny ? Why did he make 
me so unhappy that I loathe the sight of my fellow men ? 


220 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


God says he is able to keep us ‘to the uttermost,’ and then 
leaves us to the decrees of chance. Everything we have, or 
hope for, is insecure and rests in the shadows of d§bm and 
doubt. If God is not a God of mercy and tenderness, he 
can not be utilized by the world — for the wounded soul of 
humanity is pleading for mercy.” 

“A loving father loves his wayward boy, but the wicked 
boy will not acknowledge his father’s goodness. Evil exists 
because men will have it so. If thou art wounded, God will 
heal thee; if thou dost sin. He will forgive; if thou art lost. 
He will find thee ; there is a fountain opened for uncleanness, 
but it will not come to thee, thou must go to the fountain. 
Christ told the sick man to arise and walk ; the man had it in 
his power to lie still or to arise. So it is with thee, my hus- 
band ; if thou would’ St receive mercy, thou must be willing 
to receive it. It was truly sad to lose our daughter, and for 
the time it almost killed me. I have suffered as only a mother 
can suffer, when her best treasure has been taken away ; but 
through it all I have found the strong arm of my Saviour to 
lean upon.” 

Nathaniel Graydon was not converted to his wife’s doc- 
trines; but he was silenced and softened byHier earnest, 
pleading endeavor to establish the claims of her faith. 

For a few moments the silence was oppressive, and Ger- 
main became so nervous that all eyes were turned upon him ; he 
was almost suffocated by the atmosphere of refinement and 
gentle breeding : not that he was not, by nature, a gentleman 
and a scholar, but because he was conscious that he had sac- 
rificed all right and title to be called such. Conscious guilt 
makes a true gentleman ill at ease, in the presence of the 
pure in heart ; and one is awkward and depressed when he‘- 
feels himself below the moral standard of his companions. 
Add to these natural emotions, the unnatural and morbid sen- 
sitiveness caused by his temporary abstinence, and you have 
nervous, absent-minded Germain as he appeared on that oc- 


casion. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


221 


Thalia, after some conversation, concluded that the hour 
had arrived for the unveiling of the portrait, and, with some 
misgivings as to results, with the assistance of O’Leeds, car- 
ried the easel and its burden to the center of the room, 
where the gas jet could throw a proper light upon it. ‘‘Five 
years ago, this night,” she said, “the ewe lamb of our flock 
was stolen away forever. Each one, and all of us felt the 
force of that terrible blow and that our misfortune was too 
great for human endurance ; we have lived with our sorrow, 
but how mournful is retrospection ; how sad the days and 
hours since she went away. * Tumultuous grief gave way to 
resignation, and resignation is but a name for sorrow that will 
not die. Oh, our heart strings must be of steel and our men- 
tal faculties of most philosophic mould, if we would success- 
fully encounter the awful realities of existence. It is useless 
to recall the dreadful scenes of that awful night; you all 
know its horrors in detail; taken from the arms of father, 
mother, sisters, and the one she loved better than all; torn, 
in a twinkling, from our bosoms, to meet her God, by the 
waters of the Ohio; murdered, robbed, and cast into the 
dark river, and her friends only a short distance away ; how 
terrible it all seemed. I have tried to paint her as she was ; 
but who could do justice to such a one? Who could place 
upon canvas the ineffable glory of her countenance ? Who 
could paint the illimitable depths of her eyes, and the 
abundant waves of her magnificent hair? Who could paint 
the color of her cheeks, or the transparent beauty of the 
skin ? Human skill could not find proper and delicate shades 
of color ; art is vastly inferior to nature, and the difference 
between man and God is the difference between art and na- 
ture. I have labored long and earnestly to produce upon 
canvas a correct image of our darling; and to bring to you 
all, and especially to my dear papa, an accurate portrait of 
one who was made up of loveliness, and who faded from our 
lives so suddenly and mysteriously.” 


2 2 2 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON, 


Here Thalia pulled a silken cord, and the portrait was un- 
veiled. Frossie was before them, on the canvas, in all her 
transcendent beauty. The picture was a trifle more serious 
than the original, but there was the same graceful curve of 
the mouth, the same oval of the face, the hair raised a trifle 
off the straight, open forehead, and then fell in soft waves 
upon her neck. The figure was standing with clasped hands, 
and her face wore a rapt expression, as if entirely oblivious 
to all surroundings. Thalia had noticed this expression of 
rapture upon Frossie’s face, and the same effective pose; it 
was while they were listening to some soul-thrilling music 
made by a band of great musicians; she thought she had 
never seen her sister so lovely and so passionately attractive 
as on that occasion, and faithfully she had carried her im- 
pressions to the canvas, so that the eager and earnest soul of 
the model might be apparent; for Thalia, better than any 
other being, knew that beneath Frossie’s gaiety, and under 
her exterior of careless, good humor, and worldliness, was an 
impassioned soul. 

In a moment they surrounded the easel, with expressions 
of surprise and pleasure, not unmingled with sighs of regret. 

Nathaniel was pleased beyond expression, for he did not 
know of the existence of the portrait until it was unveiled. 
Long and earnestly the strong man gazed upon it, with emo- 
tions too strong for utterance, feasting his eyes and soul upon 
the form and features of his dead darling, with heart swelling 
with emotions. By and by he walked back to his arm chair, 
and sinking into its depths, covered his face with his hands, 
and recalled the happy days when she was with him, the 
pride of his heart, the joy of his household, the hope and 
comfort of his old days. Strong men are weak when they 
war against fate, and weak in adversity if they depend upon 
their own strength, but doubly weak and helpless when death 
invades the home circle and bears a loved one to the icy do- 
main of the king of terrors. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


223 


Minerva, to whom the portrait was familiar, could not re- 
strain her tears when she beheld her husband’s agitation and 
remembered the sorrowful scenes of the past. 

Terpsichore examined the portrait critically, and coolly 
said it was a ‘‘very pretty picture, but the hands are too big.” 

The fool seamstress, I regret to say, deemed it her duty 
to show a vast deal of emotion when she gazed upon the 
features on the canvas, because, she reasoned, she was well 
paid for her services by the Graydons, and could afford to 
weep ; and in a vigorous and obvious endeavor to strangle 
her feelings, and, at the same time earn her wages, she 
dropped her false teeth from her mouth to the floor, and said, 
“Oh, my!” 

Germain was visibly affected, and had not anticipated such 
a life-like painting and image of his lost love, nor had he ac- 
curately weighed the consequences of becoming sober. All 
the past came to him with renewed energy ; fond memories of 
other days of perfect bliss, when she was with him, came 
once more, and the past five years seemed a century of mis- 
fortune and misery. Misery is long bliss is absurdly short. 
Joy, as every writer who has dipped his pen in the Castalian 
fountain has observed, is fleeting ; misery is durable and more 
conservative. Joy kindles the eye; misery kills the soul and 
assassinates ambition. Good fortune fills a man with excel- 
lent opinions of his neighbor and himself. Ill fortune breeds 
disgust and builds castles of folly and despair. Like the 
curse that broke the “magic mirror of the Lady of Shalott,” 
was Germain’s misfortune; it had dethroned him and sent him 
adrift in strange waters, making him a driveling sot and forc- 
ing upon him the damnation of evil doing. As he pondered 
upon the unreturning pleasures of the past, the unfruitful 
present, and the unpropitious future, the pent-up tide of his 
sorrow gave way, and he sobbed like a child. 

In tears he found his only relief; they were the language 
of his grief, and in their eloquence he found strength. 


224 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


CHAPTEK XX. 

AN UNEXPECTED EVENT. 

Mrs. Aggie Graydon Weiler was unusually dreamy and 
distant on this occasion, and there was about her that evan- 
escent air so common to the posie twisters of these times. It 
was evident to Terp that a poem was working its way to the 
surface, and, as Aggie held a bundle of manuscript in her 
hand, it was safe to surmise they were to have it in pamphlet 
form. 

By and by the poet arose and announced her intention of 
reading a poem, which she called ‘‘To Our Darling Dead.’’ 
It was as follows : 

Oh, valley of the silent host ! 

Oh, city of the weary ! \ 

Thou art the end of man’s vain boast, .v' > 

The deep, dark home of his dim ghost, ^ 

A kingdom all adreary. , 

A sullen empire — narrow bed. 

By mirth and dole forsaken. 

When all our love lies cold adead. 

And all that can be has been said 
By lips that will not waken. 

Forever in the dust of Thee, 

We lay our treasures weeping ; 

Forever to the dusk of Thee, 

Eternal as eternity, 

The tide of life is creeping. 

Perchance it is not death to die ; 

That loss and pain are fleeting ; : . . 

That silent voices make reply, ' 

When God doth give a reason why. 

And wake to heaven’s greeting. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


The ebon wings of all my grief, 

Are falling, falling round me ; 

My aching heart finds no relief. 

The numbing pain called “Life ” is brief ; 
And deep despair hath bound me. 

The mellow days of long ago — 

Oh, sweetest breeze of healing ! 

Now ebb and flow, and come and go ; 

So sad and low, so soft and slow ; 

Through all my senses stealing. 

As daylight sinks upon the sea, 

In quiet splendor gleaming. 

So slips the dream of youth, ah me ! 

So fades the lotus land to be ! 

So ends a blissful seeming. 

Down in a green and lovely vale. 

The softest sighs are sighing ; 

And bloom and beauty but avail, 

To whisper all the dreadful tale ; 

To hearts that are adying. 

A solemnly sweet domain, 

A wonderland of treasure ; 

A resting-place for heart and brain, 

When all of love is vain, is vain. 

And life has lost its pleasure. 

The incense of my fleeting years. 

Is in this vale of beauty ; 

Where come not any idle fears. 

Nor grief, nor pain, nor bitter tears ; 

For all is love and duty. 

And I am there, and she is there ; 

The past is newly beaming, 

And here and there, and everywhere 
Her soul, as soft as summer air, 
O’ershadows all my dreaming. 


226 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


I hear her footsteps in the air; 

I feel her presence near me; 

I stroke the sun-bright silken hair; 

I kiss the dear lips, soft and rare; 

And she doth never fear me. 

Oh, loving eyes that shine and shine, 
And fairest face of faces ! 

Oh, dove-eyed houri ! rich as wine 
Is every tender glance of thine. 

And sweet thy long embraces. 

These are but dear remembered things. 
That come to me so sweetly ; 

And from the vale a whirr of wings. 
And half forgotten music brings 
The days that went so fleetly. 

I care not for the smiles of fame. 

For she has gone forever ; 

She died to save a spotless name. 

And better far is death than shame. 

And rest than life’s endeavor. 

Oh, why did all the angels sleep ! 

When her sweet life was blighted? 
And why did not the strong arm keep 
Our darling from the awful deep? 

By death and doom benighted. 

My heart will break at last, at last ; 

Oh ! why had we no warning? 

The bloom of life is in the past ; 

The future seems so dull and vast — 

A night without a morning. 

And yet I would not call thee back. 

Nor wake thee from thy slumbers ; 

“ To writhe anew upon the rack ; ” 

To walk the bitter, barren track ; 

Or sing love’s dismal numbers. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


227 


Oh, sister, sleep, profound and deep ! 

Where summer winds are blowing ; 

The grave has giv’n to heaven’s keep * 

Thy spirit fair, and therefore sleep 
Where summer airs are flowing. 

Subsequently I was told by Miss Terp Graydon that there 
were seventy-five more stanzas to this poem ; I do not believe 
the assertion of the vicious spinster, but I know that Mrs. 
Aggie Graydon Weiler was interrupted by a shrill scream, 
from the shrubbery in front of the house, and the screaming 
was iterated and reiterated in a most agonizing way. A rush 
was made for the door, and within a few moments all were 
on the outside searching in and out among the shrubs for the 
screamer, but their search was in vain ; and they were about 
to return to the house, when a long, wailing cry from the 
other side of the building came to their ears. What could it 
mean ? There was something in the wild cries that set their 
blood tingling and thrilled them with a nameless emotion. 
They rushed pell-mell through the yard, and behind the house 
found the red-headed seamstress, in a paroxysm of fright. 

shall swound on the spot, if somebody don n’t hold 
me up,” she cried, reeling around promiscuously; whereupon 
Terp seized a pail of water, standing near at hand, and 
dashed it all over the inflammatory female, who regained her 
equilibrium in an amazingly short space of time. 

Did you scream?” asked Thalia. 

‘‘Nary time ; it were it,” replied the seamstress. 

“ What do you mean ?” queried Thalia. 

“Oh Lord, didn’t ye see it? all dressed in white; 
afloatin’ around through the garden about two feet above the 
ground; white ez a sheet, with its long yaller hair aflyin’ in 
the air. It were Miss Frossie’s ghost, that ’s what it were ; 
and it come a sailin’ down the path straight fer me; and I 
not bein’ able to move a peg, but just a standin’ there like a 
stone statter. By and by it opened its mouth to yell, and I 


228 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


saw the evening star a shinin’ through its head, and sich a 
yell ! May the Lord forgive me ef I did n’t think a dozen 
devils had broke loose ; but, ez I said, it come full tilt at me, 
and I opened my arms to stop it, and it went right through 
me without stoppin’, and sailed away off behind them lilac 
bushes — ” 

Here another piercing scream filled the air, and a white 
figure dashed from behind the bushes mentioned and disap- 
peared around the house. They were all dismayed, for, in 
the bright moonlight, they had noticed the familiar profile of 
the departed Frossie. What could it mean ? Bent upon 
solving the mystery, they followed her, and, although they 
searched every nook and corner of the place, found no trace 
of her. What was it ? Barring the flighty seamstress there 
was not a superstitious person among them ; hence they did 
not believe they had seen a ghost. Germain was almost 
uncontrollable. The sight of his lost darling, though it was 
a dim glimpse, was enough to arouse the lion-like qualities 
within him, and he determined to ferret the mysterious being 
who had come, perhaps, to deceive them all, for was not 
Frossie dead and buried ? Then it stood to reason that some 
one was personating her for a purpose. They all returned to 
the house except Germain, who continued to wander about 
the premises in search of the intruder, but it was not for him 
to discover the whereabouts of the ghostly visitant. 

Now, as I have said, none of the Graydons believed in 
ghosts. In fact, Nathaniel argued that all of the five senses 
were liable to be deceived, and things, supposed by many to 
be supernatural, were but vain delusions. If,” said he, 
should walk into a cemetery, and a grave at my very feet should 
open, and some old friend, long dead, should step forth and 
grasp my hand and shake it with old-time fervor, I would 
say, subsequently, that nothing of the kind had happened ; 
that it was merely an optical illusion, and that the senses of 
touch and sight had been deceived. If one should come 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 229 

from the grave, and, with familiar conversation, talk of old 
times, and tell me of things only known to myself ; and tell 
of strange things to come, that would come to pass, I should 
always say that my sense of hearing had been deceived, and 
that my understanding was defective. If one should come 
from the grave and offer me some of the fadeless flowers of 
Paradise, with perfumes far sweeter than those of the flowers 
of earth; and bring me the ambrosial fruits of the heavenly 
Canaan ; and, though I should eat of the fruit, and inhale the 
incense of the flowers, and if the spirit should vanish slowly 
and mysteriously before my face, I would say, smell, you 
have been deceived ! taste, you have not tasted anything ! 
sight, you have not seen anything ! brain, you are becoming 
weak and soft and are easily deluded. No, sir; people see 
spirits with their minds and not with their eyes, and spirit 
forms are products of diseased imaginations.” 

Nathaniel had given expression to such ideas whenever 
the subject of spookery was under discussion ; but what be- 
comes of theory, sometimes, when fact is demonstrated ? 
Here was a live ghost at large on his premises, witnessed by 
persons of sound mind, and opinions biased against Spiritism. 
What explanation could be offered ? In the language of the 
profession: ‘^If it was n’t a spirit, what was it?” An easy 
and satisfactory solution was at hand. After a lengthy inter- 
val, a sound of music was heard, from a piano, in the unoc- 
cupied parlor. All arose and passed into the hallway, step- 
ping very cautiously, and, I doubt, if they ever listened to 
music half so entrancing and thrilling as what they heard. 
It was a selection from one of the masters, executed with 
that exquisite finish and expression which had made Frossie 
Graydon locally famous, in days gone by, and which was 
peculiarly her own style. There is an individuality of ex 
pression in instrumental music, and two persons cannot exe- 
cute the same piece of music on the piano with exactly the 
same expression ; there will be a certain something about the 

— 16 — 


4 


230 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


one, and a certain something about the other ; and, although 
both may be perfect, yet each is perfect in his own way ; it 
is the soul of the individual that leaps through the blood, 
fires the brain, and tingles the finger tips, that gives expres- 
sion to the music, and the soul of the nightingale is not the 
soul of the thrush. Therefore, I think I am justified in say- 
ing that Frossie Graydon had a style of her own, and one 
that could not be mistaken for another’s, by whom it was 
familiar. Imagine their feelings when they heard the music, 
and realized that it was Frossie’s music. What could it 
mean ? It meant that Frossie was alive, or that her ghost 
was on the piano stool, in the dark, thumping a mundane 
instrument with supermundane zeal. Suddenly the music 
changed, and Frossie Graydon’s matchless, powerful, and 
melodious voice rang out sweetly, with its old time power to 
please and fascinate. She — the voice I mean — sang an old 
love song, which was quite familiar to the listeners. Aggie 
and Thalia entered the darkened room, softly stepped to the 
piano, and trembling, stood one on each side of the singer. 
To say that they were somewhat frightened, would be putting 
it mildly ; but they reasoned that it was either their sister or 
her disembodied spirit, and it gave them courage. The sing- 
ing ceased, and the listeners heard a prolonged struggle, and 
muttered exclamations and moanings ; they instantly rushed 
in, headed by Nathaniel, who held a lighted lamp in his hand ; 
and found Aggie and Thalia with their arms twined around a 
struggling female, who was growing perceptibly weaker. It 
required but a single glance to discern that the female was 
Frossie Graydon, whom they had mourned as dead during 
the past five years. 

What followed beggars description. I would that my pen 
could portray the ecstatic joy that filled their souls to the brim 
and overflowed in torrents of bliss. Their pleasure was not 
unmingled with apprehension, for Frossie had passed into a 
state of unconsciousness, and required the immediate atten- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


231 


tion of the family physician, who prescribed rest and absolute 
quiet. I wish, I say, that I could give you the scenes as 
they were, but I can not. For a time they could not believe 
their senses, and the seamstress, who was thoroughly con- 
vinced that it was a spirit, whispered to Terp : ‘‘Pinch it, 
and see if it’s hollow?” Terp declined contemptuously; 
being very proud, at that moment, that she was a strong- 
minded woman, and not a weak-minded man, and could pass 
through any kind of an ordeal without flinching, or injury to 
her sex. 

Everybody went stark mad ; yes sir ! crazy ! idiotic ! silly 
and wild. Everybody hugged each other, and kissed each 
other again and again, and cried and laughed hysterically, 
and it was enough to upset them, dignity and all. Here was 
a young lady who had been killed, taken from the Ohio River 
and buried like a Christian; yet she was alive, and without 
any reasonable excuse. It is generally conceded that a corpse 
should remain dead, especially if the funeral expenses have 
been paid; they had known persons who were moderately 
dead to recover, but to have one whom they were confident 
was thoroughly dead, to return so unexpectedly and myster- 
iously, was more than they were able to comprehend. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE MAN WITH A CORK LEG. 

Terpsichore Graydon was constitutionally opposed to 
scenes and sensations of which she was not the source. 
Therefore, she was somewhat irritated by the great excitement 
which followed the resurrection of Frossie Graydon. 

The news of Frossie’s return spread like wild-fire, and for 
several days the Graydon place was besieged by hundreds of 


232 THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

curious and sympathetic persons, who were really anxious to 
be of service, as well as to gratify curiosity; but all they 
could learn was that Frossie Graydon was alive, and that 
no explanation had yet been offered in regard to her supposed 
death and burial. Many of the simple-minded people be- 
lieved there had been a sure enough resurrection, and that 
the sweet-faced girl, who lay so quietly on her couch, up 
stairs in a darkened room, into which none were admitted 
save members of the family and the good physician, would, 
when able to tell her story, reveal the secrets of the other 
world, and answer the questions that vexed the patriarch of 
Uz : ‘‘If a man die shall he live again Terp did not 
entertain such ideas for a moment. “She is alive, said she, 
“but why make such ado about it? I have no doubt but 
that the mystery will be satisfactorily explained in time; just 
now, it is hardly a matter in which the public should feel con- 
cerned. Altogether it is a family affair.’’ 

To see the premises thronged with people, and great 
crowds filling the house, all anxious to see the one who had 
been so miraculously restored to the bosom of her family, 
and to hear the countless expressions of amazement that fell 
from the lips of the throng, and, at the same time, realize 
that she was not a party to the affair, was exceedingly annoy- 
ing to the spinster. 

Widow Griggs remarked piously, that it was all the 
“Lord’s doin’s,” whereupon Terp replied that she did not 
believe that the Lord had had anything to do with the busi- 
ness, and that it looked more like the work of that nameless 
creature who goeth about as a roaring lion seeking “whom to 
devour;” she referred to the whole matter, and not to the 
restoration of the lost one, for in her own way she was 
pleased at Frossie’s return, and was convinced that if the fair 
maiden had been alive during the past five years she should 
have been at home. It certainly was the proper place for 
a young girl who lacked the discretion of mature years, for 



THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


233 


this world is full of men who appear to care for nothing save 
the smiles and blandishments of soft-eyed school girls, who, 
in turn, seem to care for nothing save the men. Yes, it was 
plain to Terp that a young girl’s place was at home; and 
that ogling and angling after husbands should be left to 
experienced hands, and to females who had outlived the 
mistaken ideas of youth, and are-prepared to choose wisely 
and circumspectly. 

I think it was the third day after Frossie’s arrival, very 
early in the morning, that Terp was walking in the garden 
among the flowers. She was dressed in a voluminous Mother 
Hubbard, and was evidently not expecting the well-dressed 
gentleman, with a cork leg, whom she met at the door of the 
wigwam. The well dressed gentleman, including the cork 
leg, started violently and seemed much embarrassed at meet- 
ing the spinster, but recovered immediately, and saluted her 
with an easy grace and dignity that won her admiration. It 
was no difference to her if he did have a cork leg; he was a 
man for a’ that. 

‘‘Juan Valera, madam, at your service,” he said, rather 
recklessly, considering that he was a stranger. 

“You are welcome to my father’s hospitalities,” said Terp, 
rather loftily, forgetting that he was a stranger, and remem- 
bering only that he was a man, and, aside from her demo- 
cratic views of the masculine gender, she noticed that he was 
of suitable age. 

The stranger deliberately seated himself upon a rustic 
bench, and seemed quite at home with his surroundings; 
my reader, being well acquainted with him, is not surprised 
at his actions. 

“I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Terp- 
sichore Graydon ? ” 

“That is my name,” twittered Terp, trembling with illy- 
concealed excitement, for here was a man who knew her with- 
out the formality of an introduction, and a perfect stranger 


234 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


at that. Perhaps her work of reformation, was spreading 
in social circles, and he had heard of her as a lecturer. 

“ I have heard of you,” he said, musingly. 

Perhaps he had been in town over night, and had heard 
her name at the hotel. 

^^Then you know that I lecture, and am trying to solve 
a great social problem. That is, that I am striving to simplify 
the matrimonial question, and to equalize the chances between 
the sexes.” 

‘‘Are you not the author of a book called ‘Matrimony 
Made Easy ? ’ ” 

“ Oh, no; I have not written a book, but I have lectured 
in all the principal towns and cities in the East, and some in 
the West.” This was a whopper, but Valera was equal to 
the occasion, and a mischievous twinkle came into his eyes. 

“Yes, I have heard of you in the East, and of your lect- 
ure while I was there. It created a great sensation in East- 
ern society.” This was a great lie. 

“ Indeed ! and have you heard my lecture ? ” 

“ No, but I had the pleasure of reading it in full, in one 
of the New York papers, which had made a short hand report 
of it when you lectured there, for the benefit of its readers.” 
This was a colossal falsehood, but it made no difference. 

Terp had never been East, and she must have known that 
he was mistaken ; her lecture had never been published, and, 
I believe, never delivered to any kind of an audience ; but 
here was a man who admitted her genius, and was evidently 
smitten with her logic. 

“I dare to entertain views,” she said “on the subject 
of marriage which I am aware are not popular with a certain 
class of over-modest females, who hold up their hands, in 
holy horror, at the idea of demanding justice and equal rights 
in the matrimonial market.” 

“I am truly glad,” said Valera, with the dangerous 
twinkle growing more noticeable, “that there is at least one 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 235 

woman who has the courage to stand firm for her honest 
convictions and the rights of her sex.” 

‘‘Thank you, sir,’’ said Terp, seating herself by his side, 
and adjusting her dapple-gray curls in the most bewitching 
manner possible ; “ thank you ; it is a great pleasure to me to 
find a sensible man. I would not have you think, for a 
moment, that I underestimate and undervalue modesty in 
female character. In fact, an immodest woman is as repul- 
sive as an immoral woman.” 

“ My ideas exactly,” cried Valera, rapturously. 

“My object,” continued the spinster, “is to benefit both 
sexes. Some men are entirely too bashful to get a wife; 
some women are entirely too prudent to get a husband. Do 
away with the foolish idea that the woman should wait for the 
man to propose marriage or not get a husband at all, and 
you give the prudent woman a fair chance to get a husband, 
and the bashful man would, also, have a better chance.” 

“Strange,” said Valera, musingly, “that these things 
were never thought of before.” 

“ I very well understand,” said Terp, “ that society will be 
conservative upon this question; and I am content to wait, 
well knowing that the leaven is at work, and the good seed 
already sewn will bring forth abundant harvest. When all 
women understand that it is an imperative duty to get mar- 
ried, and when all men are convinced that married life is the 
only true condition of happiness, the world will no longer be 
filled with miserable old maids and gouty bachelors, to whom 
the cream of life is sour, and to whom all pleasures are 
vanity.” 

“Strange that I never thought of that,” said Juan Valera. 

“Now, I hold,” continued the spinster, “that marriage 
should be strictly a business affair, and utterly shorn of all 
sentiment. Love is a matter that should be cultivated, to 
some extent, after marriage, when tlie contracting parties are 
acquainted with each other and are fairly competent to make 
love. I suppose you are a married man?” 


2^6 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


No, indeed,” rejoined Valera. ‘‘I have been looking all 
my life for a woman who is truly logical and sensible in all 
things; such a one is hard to find.” 

‘‘True,” cried Terp, moving up very close to Valera, 
“but you will find such a one, I ain quite sure, and get mar- 
ried ; it ’s so nice.” 

“ I think I would enjoy married life,” said Valera, moving 
very close to the old maid, with the dangerous twinkle still 
in his eyes. 

“To be sure you would. The testimony of those who 
have tried it is like the testimony given in a Methodist class- 
room, all one way, with never a change of any kind. I am 
of your opinion — favorable to married life — and, as we hold 
the same ideas, why would it not be agreeable for us to unite 
our fortunes?” 

“My dear madam,” gasped the amazed Valera, “con- 
sider that we are, as yet, only strangers, not even acquaint- 
ances.” 

“ I care not a fig for such things,” said Terp. “ You are 
a man; I am a woman. You are in search of a wife; I am 
in search of a husband. You say you admire me and my 
genius ; I admire you for your candor and honesty. The 
mere fact that we are strangers is no bar to matrimony. I 
think a preponderance of the evidence will show that nine- 
tenths of the happy and fortunate marriages are those where 
the parties thereto were suddenly smitten. Therefore, as the 
author of a great social reform, I claim the right to ask your 
hand in wedlock.” 

“But, my dear madam, it is so sudden, so unexpected!” 

“ It should be all the more sweet and acceptable, because 
it is sudden and unexpected. I observe that you are too 
retiring and modest to secure a wife, and the best part of 
your life has been wasted in vain regrets and longings after 
the desirable, and, what has been to you, the unattainable. 
You would die a bachelor if not solicited to die otherwise. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


237 


I come to your relief. All that is necessary for you to know 
is that I am of good character; all that I require of you is a 
certificate of good moral character, signed up by reputable 
persons.” 

‘‘But, my dear lady,” said Valera, “you will certainly 
give me time to reflect; time to consult my friends?” 

“If you were buying a horse or a shotgun, would you 
deem it necessary to consult friends and ask their advice 
about a matter in which you were thoroughly competent to 
act for yourself? Remember that it is strictly a matter of 
business.” 

“Of course it is simply a matter of business, but I have 
made it a rule not even to buy a shotgun without asking the 
advice of friends; I must have time for reflection.” 

“How long will it require for you to decide whether you 
do, or do not, want a wife?” 

“ Give me five years,” said Juan Valera. 

“ Sir ! ” said Terp, hotly; “ you trifle with me.” 

“ Nay, not so; give me, then, one year?” 

“Not a year, nor a month, nor a week; this day you 
must decide,” said Terp, authoritatively. 

“Very well,” said Valera, quietly. “You shall have an 
answer at'two o’clock this afternoon, if you choose to come 
here for it.” 

“I will be here at that hour,” said Terp, briefly. 

“ If I choose to decide adversely, then we can still be 
friends; I would be a brother to you.” 

“No, sir; if you decide adversely, I shall have nothing 
more to do with you ; it is strictly a matter of business, and 
I should forget you immediately.” 

He would have pressed her to his bosom, but she declined 
disdainfully. It was a matter of business, and she would not 
have it marred by sentiment. Thus she made it appear, but, 
in reality, her emotions were a fluttermill in active service. 
In fact, she wanted to embrace the man, and to be embraced 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDOX. 


238 

by the man, but experience had taught her not to precipitate 
matters, and not to build for herself air castles that were 
liable to be shattered in a moments time. She could no 
longer say, with the pretty milkmaid, ‘‘My face is my for- 
tune, sir,” for her face was becoming pinched and wrinkled, 
and required constant attention to keep it in presentable con- 
dition. 

“I am reminded,” said Valera, “that I came here for 
another purpose ; have heard of the return of Miss Frossie 
Graydon, and came here to see her and your father. I very 
much desire to meet them ; perhaps I may be of service here.” 

“You will receive a cordial welcome from my family, I 
am sure. My father is away from home this morning, but 
will be here this afternoon. I understand that Frossie has 
completely recovered from her prostration, and will be down 
stairs with the family to-day.” 

“Very well; nothing would suit me better than to meet 
your entire family when I call again. Meet me here, then, 
at two o’clock, after which you may introduce me to them.” 
And before Terp was aware of it he was ambling off in the 
general direction of town. 

Frossie Graydon regained consciousness and opened her 
eyes upon what seemed a new world ; it seemed to her that 
she had been dreaming a long, terrible dream, and that its 
hideousness could never be forgotten. Her mother stood 
beside her, gazing earnestly upon her. 

“What am I doing here, mother? I do not understand 
it,” she said. 

“The Lord doth watch thee, my daughter. He is with 
thee, and thou art safe at home.” 

“Yes, my dear mother, but why am I in this dark room, 
and in bed? There is something wrong. Oh, yes; it was 
storming so when we left the bridge; surely something must 
have happened.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


239 


F' 


^‘Yes, my darling, something did happen, but that was 
a long time ago.’’ 

‘^Is my wedding dress finished yet?’’ said Frossie, 
absently. 

“Yes, daughter, thy wedding dress is finished, but dost 
remember nothing of the past years ? My poor lamb, thou 
hast been from the fold. Where hast thou been ? ” 

“Have I not been at home, my sweet mother? Oh, 
something terrible has happened, and I can not recall it, I 
can not recall it. I only recollect the storm on the bridge, 
and something comes to me — some horrible recollection 
haunts me, and yet I can not recall it — it slips away — comes 
again — and slips away. Perhaps it is only the dim shadows 
of an ugly dream.” And she closed her eyes wearily. 

Minerva Graydon bowed her head and wept bitterly. 
Was it possible that they were to remain in the dark in regard 
to their daughter’s whereabouts during the past five years ? 
But she realized that the time for weeping was now past, and 
that thanksgiving and praise were more appropriate, for was 
not the lost found, and the dead restored to life ? Perhaps 
it was because she was conscious that her daughter had suf- 
fered some terrible misfortune ; that her mental faculties had 
been, for ^ time, completely paralyzed, that made her weep, 
and the sudden shock of this discovery was certainly enough 
to cause a temporary weakness on her part Thalia and Aggie 
were grieved to learn the apparent truth — that their sister 
had been a maniac during the years of her absence. But 
where had she been, and how had she been treated ? Ques- 
tions soon to be answered. 

Frossie’s prostration was of short duration, and with the 
return of reason, she was possessed with a strong desire to 
view again the scenes of other days — or, what seemed to 
her, the scenes of yesterday. So, on the afternoon of the 
day mentioned, she found herself with her family seated in 
the reception room, looking much the same as in other days ; 


240 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


perhaps her countenance was a trifle mournful, yet it was 
Frossie, bright, blooming, bewitching, bewildering Frossie, 
restored to reason and to the loving arms of her friends. 

Juan Valera and Terp met in the wigwam according to 
agreement, and the contract was completed. She was his, 
and he was hers, and the compact had been sealed with a 
kiss. The engagement was to be a secret, however, and you 
may well imagine Terp’s embarrassment — being engaged, 
and in possession of a secret at the same time ; it was, to her, 
a most trying ordeal. Together the couple wended their 
way to the house, Valera being quite anxious to meet the 
family. They entered the room where the group was seated, 
engaged in pleasant conversation. Valera was formally in- 
troduced, and Frossie stood gazing at him in astonishment. 
In some way she felt sure he was connected with her past life, 
but how ? 

‘'‘Le petite Aimee^"^^ Valera cried, joyfully; and to the sur- 
prise of the company, he clasped her to his bosom, and im- 
printed a burning kiss upon her willing lips. 

• ‘^Sir! Mr. Valera,^’ cried the horrified spinster. do 
not understand such conduct! Explain yourself! 

Yes, sir ! explain yourself,” said Germain, who was seated 
by Frossie’s side. That lady is to be my wife, sir; yes, sir; 
and I demand an explanation, sir, of such conduct.” ’ 

You see, at once, that Juan Valera had two nervous indi- 
viduals very jealous, and an immediate explanation seemed 
the proper thing. As the reader is, doubtless, anxious to have 
certain points cleared up, I will allow him to proceed without 
further elaboration. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


241 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

KNOTS UNTIED. 

‘‘Friends/’ smilingly said Juan Valera, “you are cer- 
tainly entitled to an explanation of what may seem to you 
very singular conduct on my part. I am just now solving 
what has been to me a problem, for the past five years ; I am 
just now in possession of the key to what has been to me a 
very great mystery, or, rather, a great mistake. During the 
past five years I have been the self-appointed guardian and 
benefactor of the one who has been so happily restored to 
reason and to the arms of her friends. During this time, or 
a greater part of the five years, I labored under the belief 
that she had no friends, but was an unfortunate actress, with- 
out home or kindred. I learned to love her (here Terp became 
restless, and glared at him savagely,) as tenderly as if she 
were my own sister, and did not know^, until my arrival in this 
place, that her name was Graydon, nor that she had a friend 
upon earth, except myself. You may well imagine my feel- 
ings, after having followed her for so many weary miles, to 
find that she had a home and a family, and that I, all these 
years, had been mistaken as to her identity. I am not 
acquainted with the history of her misfortunes, except since 
the time she has been in my care.” 

He was informed that the family were almost wholly in 
the dark in regard to Frossie’s adventures, and was requested 
to tell what he knew about her. Being thus invited, he 
related what the reader already knows. Very graphically he 
described the terrible affair in the Kentucky wood, which was 
his introduction to Frossie; very minutely he told of the ten- 
der care of the rude cabin folk ; the fortunate circumstance 
of finding a skilled physician in such an out-of-the-way place ; 
the providential steamer, with its good priest and Sisters of 


242 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDOX. 


Mercy; the watchful care of the nuns; and the scientific 
treatment and excellent care of M. Guzoit and wife, in their 
lovely private asylum; of the circumstances and evidence 
that caused him to conclude that she was an actress, without 
friends. 

was strangely infatuated with my beautiful charge,'' 
said Valera, ‘‘for reasons which 1 only partially understood. 
Some things are now clear, which were then veiled in mystery. 
I worked at my trade — being a printer. The expenses of 
keeping my charge at the private asylum were somewhat vast, 
when you take into consideration that I was compelled to 
earn the money by hard work. I was able to meet my bills 
promptly until sickness came. For a long time I was sick 
with fever, and afterwards annoyed by rheumatism. I was 
reduced to the point of starvation, because of my inability 
to work, and because I was forced to practice the most rigid 
economy and self-denial, in order to pay M. Guzoit's bills. 
But in various ways I managed to pull through and regain my 
usual health, after which I soon made up for lost time. If 
there is anything that I feel at liberty to be vain about, it is 
the fact that I was enabled to keep Frossie under the tender 
care of the French physician and his wife, and provide 
her with such a lovely home, during her days of misfor- 
tune. During her stay there she had maii}^ violent attacks, 
and was, at times, almost unmanageable, but usually, and 
especially during the last six months, she was allowed much 
freedom around the house. During that time, in all suitable 
weather, it was a favorite' pastime, or, rather, a custom of 
hers, to stroll through the beautiful gardens around the asy- 
lum. She never seemed to care for flowers, nor did she 
appear to take notice of anything or anybody, and yet her 
desire to walk in the open air each day was regarded as an 
indication of returning reason, and a step towards permanent 
recovery, for M. Guzoit held that if Frossie should ever 
regain the use of her mental faculties, her cure would be per- 


7'HE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


243 


manent and sure. It was deemed necessary at all times to 
keep a strict watch upon her movements, and, during her 
walks, she was always followed by an attendant. One day, 
recently, she escaped from her attendant, as they were walk- 
ing through the premises; a long chase ensued, and I was 
immediately informed. of the matter. We found her at a rail- 
road depot, very coolly awaiting the departure of a train. 
A sudden fancy seized me; why not allow her to depart and 
follow her ? I could control and bring her back at will, and, 
perhaps, the trip would do her great good. It was only a 
fancy of mine, but M. Guzoit allowed me to use my own 
pleasure in the matter. She boarded a train, and I followed 
immediately, posting the conductor and guaranteeing that she 
should give him no trouble. She was not aware of my pres- 
ence, and sat for hours as if in a stupor. She left the train 
when we reached the city of , and, entering the dining- 

room of the hotel, or restaurant, belonging to the depot, par- 
took of a sumptuous repast, all the time apparently oblivious 
to her surroundings, and departed without paying her bill ; but 
I paid it as hastily as possible, and followed her. She 
boarded another train; I followed, paid her fare, as I had 
done before, and gave the conductor all necessary advice. 
But she ^\’^as extremely quiet and nothing happened worthy of 
note during the tremendously long ride that followed. I 
was anxious to^ see if traveling would have any good effect 
upon her, and did nothing to attract her attention ; and I 
doubt if she would have paid any attention to me, or have 
recognized me from among the other passengers, had I seated 
myself at her side, so entirely oblivious did she seem. 

We arrived at the depot in this place, and as I had, in 
other days, been familiar with the country and with the town 
people, I stepped upon the platform for a moment to see if I 
could see any of the old-time faces and objects. When the 
train started I returned to my post 'of duty, but, to my sur- 
prise, found that Frossie had disappeared. A brakeman 


244 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


had noticed her jump off the train on the opposite side from 
the depot, and disappear in the darkness. I had the train 
stopped, for it was in rapid motion; and though I searched, 
and made inquiry, I could find no trace of her. Being thor- 
oughly aroused, my search was diligent. One fellow claimed 
to have seen a woman answering to my description going 
south, on the National pike; I procured a horse and followed 
the woman, but found her to be only a country woman re- 
turning home. On my return to town, I found the place in a 
state of excitement. It was said that the long-lost daughter 
of Nathaniel Graydon, mourned as dead for many years, had 
returned home, and that she was supposed to be a lunatic. 
You may be sure that I was not long in learning the exact 
truth, for a suspicion flashed into my mind, and kept growing 
stronger all the time, that Nathaniel Graydon’s daughter and 
my charge were one and the same person. With many others 
I visited your house, saw Frossie lying on a lounge, with your 
physician present, and, deeming it advisable not to in- 
trude, withdrew, without attracting attentioh or comment. I 
learned afterward that she was suffering from prostration, and 
believing my absence would be of more benefit than my 
presence, remained at my hotel. You can imagine my feel- 
ings when I was told that her reason had been so miraculously 
restored. ‘ To know that one I had so tenderly and patiently 
cared for, was again herself, made me very happy. It was, 
however, but a fulfillment of M. Guzoit’s recent prophecy; 
he claimed that it was extremely probable that she would 
regain her mental strength, and that her intellectual powers 
would be as strong, or stronger, than they were prior to the 
time she had received the terrible gunshot wound which caused 
her insanity. I congratulate you, my Le petite sweetheart, 
upon your permanent recovery, and prophesy that your mis- 
fortunes are at an end, and that life holds for you its sweetest 
incense.” 

At the conclusion of Valera’s lengthy story, Frossie threw 


THE HOUSE OE GRAVDON. 


245 


her arms around him, and gave him a tremendous hugging 
and kissing, much to the disgust of two nervous individuals 
whose jealous fears made them quite unhappy and unreason- 
able for the time being. i\ll had listened attentively to Val- 
era, and he was interrupted by many an exclamation of sur- 
prise and half-suppressed sobs. Frossie was more surprised 
than any one present, and as he progressed with the story, 
she fancied she could dimly remember a portion of it ; yet, 
upon reflection, she was certain that she could not positively 
remember a single thing narrated by Valera. It was all like a 
horrible dream that had. passed beyond recall. She did re- 
member all that had happened on the night of her disappear- 
ance, to the time of the firing of the pistol, and told the 
same story as told by Satalia in his letter of confession, add- 
ing that she had never suspicioned Paul Satalia of improper 
motives until that evening, and was at first greatly surprised 
at his words and conduct on the bridge, then angry, and fin- 
ally horrified. She was bewildered by the violence of the 
storm and the panic of the crowd, and was frightened almost 
to death when she found she had made the mistake of fleeine 

o 

to the Kentucky side of the river, and was in the power of 
the unscrupulous villain. 

‘‘It is rather singular,” said Valera, “that you did not 
find a clue to her whereabouts, when she was so near the 
place of her disappearance for many hours.’’ 

“Well,” said Nathaniel, casting a contemptuous glance at 
Ferp, “you see the police and everybody in search of a clue, 
were rambling around over the country after a cab and two 
white horses. It’s quite a disadvantage to have a fool in the 
family, and — ” 

But Minerva spoke to him quietly, and he subsided. 

Some things connected with the affair were never explained, 
but they were not material facts, and consequently of little 
value in the chain of evidence required to make this story 
complete. For instance, why the articles of clothing were 

— 17 — 


/ 


246 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


scattered around in different places was never certainly known ; 
but the theory of the police force, that these articles were so 
scattered to throw pursuers off the trail, was probably correct. 
The identity of the body taken from the Ohio River, and in- 
terred with so much pomp and ceremony, was never estab- 
lished, nor satisfactorily explained. Probably it was the re- 
mains of ‘‘One more unfortunate,^’ who had been thrown 
from the suspension bridge, or from a boat, by some murder- 
ous villain. This theory is probably correct, as the body was 
in a nude condition, and bore marks of violence. Yet it 
may have been some half-crazed girl who had, in a state of 
frenzy, escaped from home in the dark hours of night, and 
to escape from shame and mental torture, leaped from the 
bridge : 

“ Mad from life’s history, 

Glad to death’s mystery, 

Swift to be hurled 
Anywhere, anywhere, 

Out of the world.” 

It was a case of mistaken identity, which proved satisfactory 
to all concerned. Amelia Burgoyne, the actress mentioned, 
was subsequently found in a variety theater in the city of 
Brooklyn, New York, and was probably a heartless, giddy 
creature, whose vain ambition allowed her to forsake her old 
mother, and elope with an actor, who promised her fame and 
fortune, and gave her nothing. 

Thalia and Aggie and Minerva fell in love with the hand- 
some, chivalrous stranger, and Frossie felt she had another 
idol besides her papa and the jealous young man at her side, 
who was gnashing his teeth with ill-concealed rage, to think 
that the handsome man should have an opportunity to befriend 
Frossie, and fall in love with her, and no one there to prevent. 
Of course he was too old for Frossie; but girls sometimes do 
foolish things, and who knows? etc., etc. 

Nathaniel eyed the stranger curiously during the recital of 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


247 


the narrative ; and something in Valera’s manner of expres- 
sion and general conduct seemed familiar; he fancied that it 
must be some former friend, and he was correct, although 
the date of their acquaintance was away back in the frosty 
past. But something of greater importance than mere recol- 
lection aided Nathaniel, as we shall see. 

‘‘You said awhile ago, I believe,” said he, “that this vi- 
cinity was familiar to you, and as I become better acquainted 
with you, am almost certain that I have known you some time 
in the past. Perhaps it is only fancy, but something about 
you, your actions it may be, seem familiar. I am not good 
at remembering names, but faces never slip entirely away 
from me. I do not recollect your name, but we have met; 
is it not true ?” 

“You are not mistaken,” said Jukn Valera, with bitter 
emphasis. “When I was a mere lad, every inch of ground 
in this neighborhood was familiar; but that was before the 
evil days came upon me.” 

“You speak mournfully, sir!” said warm-hearted Thalia, 

“ but as if this place held blissful memories. Will you not 
take us into your confidence, and accept our sympathies? 
We must always regard you as the author of our future happi- 
ness : for was it not your heroism, and patience, and protec- 
tion that saved our darling and brought her safe home?” 

“I hardly know whether I am entitled to so much grati- . 
tude or not,” said Valera. “I endeavored to do my duty; 
but must have been impelled by that invisible Power and 
Presence which sometimes directs the feet of men into paths 
of duty and holiness, when the flesh itself is weak and re- 
bellious.” 

“He that keepeth Israel neither slumbereth nor sleepeth. 
Thou wert directed by the Spirit of the living Lord to save 
the perishing one. God sent thee as His messenger. His 
ministering angel, and raised thee up in the depths of the 
Kentucky forest to do His will. He is mighty to save, and 


248 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


works through human instrumentalities.’’ These words, 
spoken so earnestly by Minerva, caused Valera to bow respect- 
fully to the gentle woman, whom he was learning to admire. 

‘‘Sir,” said Germain, with frosty politeness; “there is 
no one here who ought to be more grateful than myself ; for 
you have returned to my arms and my heart the only being 
that I ever loved, and the one who is to be my wife.” 

Doubtless Germain thought he was igniting a train of 
powder, for he looked as if he expected an. immediate ex- 
plosion ; but Valera was coolly and calmly indilferent to the 
remarks of the jealous lover, and Terp was again hopeful, 
for, she reasoned, if her intended was in love with Frossie 
he would certainly manifest some annoyance at Germain’s 
bold declaration. 

“ By my soul,” cried the impetuous O’Leeds, “this is the 
most remarkable series of adventure that ever came under 
my observation ; it beats the most extravagant story told in 
any novel I have read; and I have been trying to persuade 
my dear sister Aggie to write it up and publish it in book 
form. You have my unbounded gratitude for the service 
you have rendered us.” 

Juan Valera smiled at O’Leeds’ enthusiasm, and was 
about to speak again, when Frossie swept across the room 
and grasped his hand He arose to his feet, and the bewil- 
deringly beautiful face, with its tearful eyes, was beaming full 
upon him. 

“If my friends have cause to feel grateful to you, I have 
much more reason to bless you. To you I owe my friends, 
my reason, and life itself. Oh, how can I repay you?” 

Now, Germain thought this would be just the opportunity 
for Valera to say, in the language of the book, “ Fair lady, I 
ask but your heart and hand in return. I have loved you 
through all these years of sacrifice.” But that gentleman 
used no such language ; and after a short conversation with 
his former charge, said, addressing the old gentleman : 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


249 


“ Yes, it was years ago, in my childhood days, that I lived 
here and had a home. It was the happiest period of my 
life — the only spot in life’s tempestuous and winding way 
that has been entirely satisfactory. I was a wild, passionate 
boy, full of life, and enjoying boyish sports with a whirlwind 
of enthusiasm. I could ride the wildest colt, outrun the 
fleetest footed companion, out-swim the other boys, and in 
athletic and acrobatic feats was far superior to any of my boy 
friends. In fact, I was a lively youth, and my highest ambi- 
tion was to excel in out-door sports. As the years went by, 
I acquired bad habits, and was not as particular about the 
quality as I was about the quantity of my associates. I was a 
favorite with lads of good, as well as bad repute; my friends 
were numerous, and willing to view, with some degree of al- 
lowance, the harmless pranks of a lively boy ; but my father 
was inclined to be severe, and, I thought in those days, ty- 
rannical. The most trivial happenings of my every-day life 
were, sometimes, magnified by him into grave offenses; and 
I was severely punished for misdemeanors which existed only 
in his imagination. Notwithstanding his quick temper, hasty 
Judgment, and imperative ways, my father was a kind-hearted 
man, and was very good to me at times. My mother was 
irritable, and entirely incompetent to control my headstrong 
disposition. She neither had the ability nor the inclination 
to shape my character for good, and, in consequence, my 
character shaped itself. I do not think I had an evil disposi- 
tion, and never intentionally harmed any one ; but having 
made friends with some lads of bad character, and abandoning 
my former good associations, my own reputation became a 
target for suspicion. Evil communications, it is said, corrupt 
good manners, and it was even so in my case, for my course 
was from thence downward, and myself and a few compan- 
ions were arrested, charged with a serious crime. I was in- 
nocent, but the evidence was against me ; it was, however, 
circumstantial evidence, but I was sure it would lead to con- 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


250 

viction. I was admitted to bail, which I concluded to forfeit 
and slip out into the big world that looked so enticing to me ; 
and left home believing that my father, as my bondsman, 
would be compelled to pay a large sum of money on my ac- 
count, but consoled myself with the thought that he would 
rather pay out any amount of money than have me convicted 
of a crime of which I was not guilty — ” 

^‘Hold!” cried Nathaniel Graydon, excitedly. ‘‘Your 
name is not familiar, but you are telling a story that is pain- 
fully familiar. Valera, who are you ? 

“Who am I?” he said with terrible emphasis.. “Who 
am I — I am — yes, I am — your son — Hamlet Graydon!’’ 

If some one had thrown a bomb-shell through the window, 
and said shell. had burst in the midst of that quiet and highly 
respectable group, I do not think the results would have 
been more terrific. 

“And you claim to be my brother?” cried Terp, all 
ablaze. 

“Yes, Terpsichore, I am your long lost brother,” and, 
turning to her, would have embraced her, but she would not. 

“ Villain ! beast ! brute ! I hate you ! ” cried the disap- 
pointed spinster, flouncing out of the room majestically, much 
to the surprise of the company, who could not understand 
such language, even from Terp. Hamlet wisely kept his own 
counsel, seeing that he had carried his joke a little too far ; 
but he knew that his eccentric sister’s affections were not 
involved, and that she was not damaged to any great extent. 
The matter was never alluded to by any of the family, and 
Terp was spared the humiliation that would have followed an 
exposure of her exploit of having tried to “equalize the 
chances” with her own, dear, long-absent brother. 

The estrangement between father and son had always 
been a thorn in Minerva Graydon’s pillow, and her joy knew 
no bounds in thus beholding her husband’s son coming to 
them under circumstances that would be sure to unite them 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


251 


in indissoluble bonds. The sisters had never met their 
“half brother,” and his name having been mentioned but 
little, they were, by reason of their father’s displeasure and 
commands, obliged to content themselves with a very limited 
knowledge of the missing link in the family chain. Now that 
he was here, and they found him to be a generous, self-sacri- 
ficing, whole-souled and gentlemanly fellow, was it not a 
proper thing for Aggie to shake him warmly by the hand, for 
Thalia to kiss him, and for Frossie — under the circumstances, 
mind you, — to embrace him, again and again? And was it 
not a proper time for Germain to cease gnashing his teeth in 
jealous rage, and shake hands with his “skeleton at the feast,” 
and assure him, with a radiant and happy countenance, of 
his everlasting friendship ? And was it not an opportunity 
for O’Leeds to splutter, air his magnificent courtesy, kiss his 
wife, bring in the juvenile Weilers and O’ Leeds, introduce 
them to the new found fractional brother-in-law, and tell him 
how smart they were, for such sjnall children ? All these 
things came to pass, and were multiplied a great many times. 
Hamlet was sated with saccharine matter, and was willing to 
abandon the “role” of Enoch Arden and become an humble 
citizen of the Republic at once. But he appreciated the gen- 
erous welcome given by his family, and was moved to tears 
by the fervency of their avowals of gratitude and love. And 
one who had suffered from the stings of detraction ; felt the 
force of unrequited toil, warred with the world for bread ; 
who had been slandered and maligned and abused ; who had 
been ruined by the freaks of outrageous fortune, and who 
was weary and sick of the world, had found a shelter and 
rest at home. 

Nathaniel Graydon had something to say, and he said it : 

“ What a wonderful thing is this life we live. There is no 
stop, nor stay, in the tide of events. Change and chance 
make and unmake the fabric of our bliss. There is nothing 
so cruel as destiny ; nothing so fleeting as friendship ; nothing 


252 THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 

SO delusive as hope ; nothing so uncertain as happiness. To- 
day we feel secure; to-morrow we may gaze upon a different 
map, and the geography of the future may seem foreboding and 
cheerless. 'I'o-day our lives may seem hopelessly dreary and 
dark ; in a moment all may be changed to life and light. 
Five years ago the darkest and most wretched days of my life 
came upon me; I lost desire for life, and spent my time in 
railing against my hard fate. I never expected to be happy 
again; but lo, in a single moment everything is changed, and 
all the old time duties and pleasures are in bloom.” 

‘‘And Richard is himself again,” said Tiberius. 

Nathaniel bowed and continued : “The return of my son 
was the one thing necessary to make my cup full to overflow- 
ing. I see it all now, but a week ago I would have been 
angry at the mention of his name. He has returned, and I 
welcome him home to my hospitalities, to my hearth-stone, 
and to my heart again. Through all these long years of es- 
trangement I have been to blame. Yes, I Ve been to blame. 
I ask your pardon, my son, for my cruelty and neglect; and 
may God forgive me for what I have done.” 

Hamlet Graydon was overjoyed to regain a place- in his 
father’s affections, and the two men actually embraced. 

“ My noble father, we will never again be separated; the 
ties that now bind us can not be broken. This is the hap- 
piest day of my life, for I have suffered terribly, because of 
my unreasonable and foolish resolve never to return home, 
and never to ask forgiveness for the wrong I have done. When 
I left home, as you are aware, I was nothing but a mere boy. 
After my departure I received many letters from you, my 
father, for I did not, for a long time, make a secret of my where- 
abouts to you. Your letters were violent and abusive, if you 
remember, and probably I merited such, but did not think so 
at the time. Finally I adopted the policy of returning your 
letters unopened, and, with the regularity of clock-work, I 
returned them.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 253 

‘‘Oh, my son!” said Nathaniel, “if you had but opened 
my last letters, I am sure you would have changed your mind. 
For, after your innocence had been established, and your 
name cleared of even a suspicion of guilt, and the crime for 
which you were arrested ha4 been fastened upon other per- 
sons, my feelings toward you were completely changed. I 
loved you then as I do now, and wanted you to return home. 
But you did not open my letters, and when you wrote me that 
note telling me not to waste my precious time writing to you, 
and declaring that you would never darken my doors again, 
I was so enraged that I vowed never to receive you as a son 
again, and that we should from that time be strangers, and 
we have been all these years apart without any sensible rea- 
son why.” 

“Yes, my father, we have been separated without suffi- 
cient reason; our blind passions made us forget our first and 
most sacred duties and obligations toward each other. I 
would that it had been otherwise, for I have suffered terribly, 
and my whole life has been a failure. No, I will not say 
that, for there are redeeming features in every man’s life. I 
have roamed all over the world, and mingled with all kinds 
of people, rich and poor, good, bad, and indifferent. I have 
associated with the refined and intellectual, and with the 
depraved and the ignorant; the whole world has been my 
home, and a very undesirable home it has been at times. 
My life has been void of all permanent joy, and divorced 
from all the real comforts of home. I became dissolute and 
dissipated, and drifted around about the same as a tramp, or 
a vagabond, working at my trade from place to place, and 
earning enough money to satisfy my appetite for drink and 
food ; but I never begged, nor accepted charity in any shape ; 
was always strictly honest, and, I believe, generous to a 
fault. But, oh ! the long days and nights of wandering and 
drifting without a purpose or an aim ; they rise up against 
me as I talk, and, like Banquo’s ghost, they will not down. 


254 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


The sins of my youth and the folly of manhood cannot be 
blotted out, however much I desire it; they are the crimson 
stains of my character, and I cannot wash them white. The 
failures of a misspent life have mocked my every effort at 
reformation, and I wrestle with them as a strong man with a 
giant. Five years ago, when Frossie became my charge, I 
resolved to lead a new life; to make an honest effort to be- 
come respectable, and to so live that I should have an influ- 
ence for good among my fellows. I need not tell you that 
my struggle with old habits was long and bitter, but I con- 
quered my evil desires and appetites, and habits of industry 
came again to strengthen my new-born desires for a higher 
life. I believe that my reformation is complete and perma- 
nent, and the balance of my days will be devoted to useful 
pursuits of happiness. During the rebellion I served as a 
private soldier, and am proud of my army record. I did 
my duties faithfully and well, so my superiors said. Whether 
parched by the summer’s sun, or numbed by the frosts of 
winter, I was always ready and willing to do my duty, in 
camp or in the field. I was obedient to my superiors, and 
never flinched before the guns of the enemy ; was wounded 
four times, and left a leg at Stone River.” 

‘‘You are, indeed, my son,” said Nathaniel, joyfully; 
“ for if you have been a good soldier, then you will be a 
good citizen. You are a thoroughbred Graydon, although I 
once imagined that you were a Driver, and (confidentially, 
aside,) damn the Drivers.” 

I think there was no one present so happy as Minerva 
Graydon. The restoration of her daughter, the acquisition 
of a step-son, whom she already admired for his manly bear- 
ing, were blessings for which she could not be thankful 
enough, and she had something to say : 

“You know the Psalmist says, ‘ He shall cover thee with 
His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust,’ and there 
I have found refuge during the dark hours now gone forever. 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


255 


Yes, I have been covered with the feathers of His love, and 
under the shadow of His beautiful wings I have found safety 
and rest; and there forever let me abide. Under the wings 
of my God, close folded and secure, hiding from danger and 
harm. Wings of healing, shadow of mercy and peace, under 
thee I will love, and trust, and hope, and prepare for heaven, 
and die. There is no safety nor abiding peace, except in the 
presence of God. He has been with me all the time, and, 
though my heart was bruised and bleeding, I found, in Him, 
strength to bear it all. Of what avail is any religion if it does 
not bring strength in the hour of need ? Of what avail is my 
faith in Christ if it be not sufficient in every time of trouble? 
There is no gl-ief to great to bear if we are under the beauti- 
ful Shadow. There is no gulf of despair too deep for God to 
fathom and find His children. If we sleep in the hollow of 
His hand nothing shall harm us or make us afraid. There is 
no sorrow that God can not turn to joy. There is no misfor- 
tune so dark and terrible that the glory of His presence can 
not illumine and drive away. I have walked hand-in-hand 
with my Saviour, and He always leads me into bright and 
shining ways. He has taken away the heart-aches and the 
tears an^ the suffering. Praise His holy name, we may walk 
in His presence and not faint; we may lay our heads upon 
the bosom of that mighty love and rest secure.” 

Each one had something to say, and the time passed 
pleasantly. Hamlet was firmly installed in the affections of 
his family, and in a home that was to be a place of delight 
and comfort to him during the remainder of his life. 

That same day Nathaniel sought his “ Book of the House 
of Graydon,” determined to adjust Hamlet’s record; and he 
did so to his own satisfaction. With a rubber eraser he erased 
all the pencil marks and the cross that had been scrawled 
across the meager biography, and a very lengthy and generous 
sketch of the son’s life was recorded. Having satisfied him- 
self that he had done ample justice to his son’s name, he 


256 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


searched in his wonderful book for a precedent to fit Hamlet’s 
case. He found nothing to match, and nothing very similar. 
The nearest was the mournful tale of Duncan Graydon, away 
back along the line of his ancestors : 

“Duncan Graydon, eldest son of John and Sarah Graydon, was 

born , and died . At the age of fifteen, he w'as arrested for 

stealing a cow from a poor widow. The matter was hushed up, and 
young Duncan fled for parts unknown. In the war of 1812 he was 
terribly wounded a great many times; and his right leg and left arm 
were blown off by cannon balls, two of which struck him at the same 
moment. In a saloon fight he had an ear chewed off and an eye 
gouged out, and lost his remaining arm in a bear trap; afterwards, his 
remaining foot was so badly frozen that amputation was necessary. 
Feeling the need of home influences, he sent for his father to come to 
his aid. But while his father was on the road, a shot-gun, in the 
hands of a friend, prematurely exploded, taking effect in Duncan’s 
abdomen. His father reached him while he was yet alive, and Dun- 
can asked him for a chew of tobacco. His father placed the plug to 
his lips, and he eagerly bit off a large chew, which he rolled around 
in his mouth for a few moments, and expired. 

“Later. — The above is partially erroneous, and by some con- 
sidered altogether untrue.” 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 

A BRIDAL TOUR. 

Sentimental persons do a great many foolish things, and 
some things which are not so foolish. Persons of fine fiber 
and strong spirituality are prone to keep in remembrance, 
things that are sacred by reason of sorrow; and Frossie’s 
wedding garments, during her absence, were objects almost 
of worship, inasmuch as they were a perpetual and vivid 
reminder of the last happy hours spent together by the sis- 
ters. These garments had been manufactured according to 
contract, and expressed to the Graydons, with the garments 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


257 


ordered by Thalia and Aggie. When she learned of what 
priceless value they had been to the sisters, and with what 
jealous care they had been guarded, Frossie decided to use 
the wedding dress purchased five' years ago, for the wedding 
that failed to be, by reason of the absence of the bride. 
What difference did it make if they were not of the latest 
style ? They were stylish enough, and had been sanctified 
by the tears of her dear sisters, and that was of more conse- 
quence than style, or the opinions of people who care for 
style. With some changes the costly apparel was adjusted 
to suit the graceful figure for which it was originally intended. 
She had grown a trifle stouter and taller, but the red-headed 
seamstress, who had cultivated her courage up to a point 
where she could hold her false teeth in her mouth when 
Frossie was near, although they would chatter a little, was 
equal to the demands of the matter, and the changes were 
made very neatly. 

Germain’s reformation was as sudden and emphatically 
certain as had been his downfall. He had been as one with- 
out a puipose or a hope, living only to satisfy appetite and 
passion. Now that he had been restored to light and life, 
and had a hope and a purpose — in female attire — he was 
himself again. The ravages of dissipation soon disappeared 
from his countenance, and he became the same athletic, 
handsome, and noble looking fellow that he had been in 
days of old. The gossips of the neighborhood were morally 
certain that he would return to his old ways after marriage, 
but, as usual, they were mistaken. 

Some persons are moderately and sensibly happy on the 
day of their wedding; others are absurdly and absent-mind- 
edly blissful on such occasions. As for Germain, I think he 
was the very happiest mortal in all the world when he clasped 
his lovely bride to his honest bosom, and, for the first time, 
called her wife, and vowed to shelter and protect, and love, 
and caress, in sickness and in health, through evil and good 


258 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDOX. 


report, to the end of life. I say I think he was the happiest 
mortal in all the world at that moment, and he should have 
been, for Frossie was certainly the happiest woman, and told 
Thalia so. Thalia laughingly replied that all new brides were 
happy, and had a right to be so, for wedded life was a happy 
state of existence, doubtless thinking about her dear Tiberius, 
herself and children, when she mentioned the bliss of married 
life, for she had been very happy, and her bliss had been marred 
only by sad recollections and the loss of her beloved sister. 

The sensible twain decided not to make an expensive 
and extensive wedding tour, but to be content with a visit to 
the scenes of Frossie’s strange adventures. She was anxious 
to become acquainted with the Conway family, of whom she 
had no recollection, but whose tender mercies had been glow- 
ingly depicted and recited by Hamlet; and she longed to 
revisit the prison home, where, for so long a time, she was 
held captive by reason of her darkened intellect. The good 
Sisters, who took her in, and Dr. Lemoine, were also on her 
list of benefactors. As she pondered over her miraculous 
restoration to reason and to friends, her gratitude increased, 
and, as she thought pf the magnanimous self-sacrifices of 
Hamlet in her behalf, it is no wonder that he became in her 
eyes the embodiment of perfect manhood; and he was a 
noble fellow, notwithstanding his former waywardness. 

It was a day in September when the bridal party was 
ready for departure. The members of this highly respectable 
group were Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Chadsworth Graydon, 
Mr. and Mrs. Rudolph Germain, Mr. and Mrs. Tiberius 
O’ Leeds and children, Mrs. Aggie Graydon Weiler and chil- 
dren, Miss Terpsichore Graydon, Mr. Hamlet Graydon, and 
dear old Aunt Mehitable, who has been dropped from this 
story on account of a severe cold she contracted while doing 
missionary work in one of the heaven-deserted wards of her 
city. The red-headed seamstress wanted to take the trip, 
but was afraid to risk herself on board the same boat with 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


259 


Miss Terp Graydon. Nathaniel Graydon never looked so 
hale and so emphatically happy in his life ; the vigor of youth 
had, seemingly, returned, and he looked as if he viewed the 
entire globe from a military standpoint. To Minerva the 
breezes were singing Psalms, and she was very happy. 
O’Leeds was polished up until he was as beaming as in days 
of old, when he was considered a most charming society 
man. Thalia was exceedingly joyous, and kissed her mother 
frequently, which was her way of letting off the rapidly ac- 
cumulating vapors of bliss. Mother’s kiss was always an 
available safety-valve to her soul. Aggie was most bewitch- 
ingly attired, and it s^med that her youthful beauty had not 
only been retained, but greatly improved. You may be cer- 
tain that she was not a neglected flower, nor one of those un- 
desirable calamities so often found in widow’s weeds; no in- 
deed ! It was whispered that she was engaged to a promising 
young physician, and the rumor was correct. Terp was 
starched and braced up with great severity, and she viewed 
the stern aspect of her future affairs with that philosophical 
indifference for which she was noted, not even allowing her 
associates to know that she was suffering the pangs of keen 
disappointment; and, notwithstanding her long-lost brother 
had made overtures at reconciliation, she treated him with 
cold contempt. Hamlet was a most companionable fellow, 
in his way, and had made himself agreeable to every one, 
barring Terp. Even the juvenile members of the party were 
delighted with his joviality and generosity. As to the bride 
and groom — please excuse me 1 They were walking on air, 
climbing to the moon on a ladder made of honeysuckles and 
jessamine flowers Therefore, I say, please release me from 
the task of telling the tale of true love and revealing the se- 
crets of the honeymoon to the vulgar gaze of the public. 
The thrilling language of love usually indulged in by newly 
married folk, is entirely too sweet for assimilation by the 
hard-headed public, and the honeymoon should be a private 


26 o 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


affair, not even visible to friends of the family. Frossie 
probably would not have been so happy had she been in full 
possession of the facts concerning Paul Satalia’s death. She 
knew that he was dead, but the manner and circumstances 
connected with his death were withheld from her knowledge, 
for a long time. She had been exonerated by her friends 
from all blame in the deplorable affair, and it was thought 
best to allow her, for the present, to remain in ignorance of 
the horrible features of his demise. 

But, as I was saying, it was a day in September when they 
found themselves afloat on the broad bosom of the Ohio, 
going toward the Mississippi, in an elegant steamer which had 
been chartered especially for the occasion. It was a small 
vessel, but quite ample for their purposes, and had been fitted 
up for private use in a most expensive manner, Hamlet 
thought he could locate the spot where the villains had pulled 
ashore with the supposed dead body of their victim, but 
deemed it prudent to go further down the river to the landing 
where the providential steamer, bearing the heaven-directed 
priest and Sisters of Mercy had made such a timely arrival. 
He was somewhat confused by the first appearance of things 
at the landing ; much timber had been cut away in the vicin- 
ity, and a few houses had been erected. So great a change 
had been made that he hardly knew whether he was at the 
right place or not. Once on shore, however, he found his 
bearings, and struck the exact trail over which Frossie had 
been carried on the stretcher to the steamer “Jasmine Bell,’’ 
and it was proposed to go at once to Conway’s humble dwell- 
ing. The distance being somewhat lengthy. Aunt Mehitable 
was left at a cottage near the landing, she preferring to stay 
there during the day rather than endure the fatigue of the 
journey. A hand-cart was procured for the purpose of con- 
veying the children, it being the only vehicle in the neighbor- 
hood suitable for that purpose, and the children hugely en- 
joyed their rough and tumble ride through the wood. Very 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


261 


minutely Hamlet described the journey from the cabin to the 
steamer, showing the spots where the men stopped to rest, or 
change their burden to other willing hands. 

After a long walk they came in sight of the cabin, a hum- ‘ 
ble cabin, and yet the most sacred structure of the kind in 
all the world to Frossie and her companions. There had 
been but little change about the place since the day Hamlet 
left it with his precious charge. A slab-sided young man 
was splitting stove-wood near the house. He was angular 
and awkward, and did n’t seem to care if he was, or who 
knew it. He knew, in a general way, that the discovery of 
America was conceded to Columbus, that the war was over, 
and a great many other useful things ; but it was obvious 
that he had not wasted any time in cultivating the smiles and 
favor of fashionable society. Hamlet recognized him at a 
glance, although he had grown amazingly tall. It was Beau- 
regard. Very unconcernedly he continued to swing his ax, 
not being aware of their approach until they were upon him. 
Becoming conscious of their presence, he ceased chopping, 
and said, ks if talking to himself : 

‘‘Well, I’ll be dern’d, who be it?” 

Hamlet was not long in making himself known, and, 
after a few moments, the young man remembered him quite 
well. When he introduced Frossie as the one who was so 
terribly wounded, and who had been carried from the cabin 
on a stretcher, Beauregard’s eyes widened, and, dropping his 
ax, he fled to the house without ceremony, and yelled to his 
mother, who was somewhere in the interior : 

“Mother! mother! come quick, an’ see the little Dutch 
gal that ware hyar onct with her head all shot off, an’ the 
same man ’s with her ! ” 

Almost instantly Jezreel was at the door, hastened to 
meet the visitors, and, in her quaint, old-fashioned way, gave 
them a hearty welcome. Zebadee was in the wood, not far 
away, and, without instructions, Beauregard hastened to in- 


- 18 - 


262 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


form him of the arrivals. The good man came in, much 
surprised, but, nevertheless, gratified to meet his visitors. 
Whilst greetings were being exchanged, Beauregard might 
have been seen stealing around the corner of the house, and 
entering the barn, with a bundle under his arm, which he 
had taken from the house. Shortly afterward he emerged, 
dressed in his best clothes, a suit of blue jeans, with a straw 
hat upon his head, and a flaming necktie flying from the top 
of his coat. He had greased his shoes with harness oil, and 
was now ready to mingle with the crowd. Frossie spoke 
kindly to him, and won his heart instantly. During the con- 
versation that followed he inadvertently alluded to Frossie 
as the ‘‘little Dutch gal,” and Hamlet offered an explanation 
of what seemed to them rude and boorish. 

“You see, Frossie, when you lay here so dangerously 
sick, you were delirious, and did your weeping and moan- 
ing and talking mostly in French, Latin, and other languages, 
and our good friends have the mistaken idea that you are a 
foreigner.” 

The explanation was entirely satisfactory to all concerned, 
and Frossie declared she did not understand why she should 
forsake the English language at such a time; although, she 
was aware she had received a careful training in several lan- 
guages. “But,” said she, “being English, it was quite 
proper for me to take to French and Latin, after I had my 
head severely injured; but as long as one’s head is clear, 
English is good enough.” 

Right here it was proposed to visit the spot where Fros- 
sie’s grave had been dug; and, after some hesita'tion, and a 
few cold shudders, the proposition was accepted ; and the 
party, without further ado, went to the spot where Frossie 
had almost found an eternal resting-place. The spot was 
covered with weeds, but the grave had only been partially 
refilled, and, when the weeds were taken away, there it was, 
with all its hideous suggestions. Hamlet described his attack 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 263 

on the villains, their precipitate flight, and his own conster- 
nation at being left alone with one so terribly and danger- 
'ously wounded. As he indicated with his foot the place 
where Frossie laid, while the grave was being prepared, that 
sensitive creature burst into tears, a privilege which she had 
been denying herself all morning; but her father’s strong 
arm was around her, and he led her gently away from the 
dreadful spot. At the cabin Zebadee exhibited the pick, 
shovel, and lantern left by the three villains; and Beaure- 
gard produced, from some out-of-the-way place, a large bot- 
tle with a tiny American flag (now at half-mast) sticking in 
the stopper. Hamlet actually flushed, and Beauregard said 
that he had found the bottle in the woods a short time after 
the date of the tragic events, and was sure it had belonged 
to the desperadoes ; but it did seem rather singular to him 
that they should think it necessary to decorate the bottle with 
a flag. Hamlet purchased this, as a relic, of Beauregard, and 
afterward had it placed in a glass case, which he kept with 
religious zeal, for was’ not this bottle, and the remaining drops 
of liquor in it, connected with the event which had proved a 
happy turning point in his career, and restored him to home 
and friends? 

Nathaniel purchased the rocking chair in which Frossie 
was carried to the cabin, and put old Charley, the faithful 
horse which had done such good service, on the retired list, 
and he was to enjoy freedom from hard labor the balance of 
his days. The Graydons found many ways to express their 
gratitude, and notwithstanding the fact that Zebadee and the 
motherly Jezreel. were sensitive about receiving pay for their 
services, yet they did receive many valuable presents; and 
ever afterwards, at certain seasons of the year, to-wit : on 
the fourth day of July, and on the twenty-fifth day of Decem- 
ber, valuable packages from Nathaniel, and family arrive at 
the cabin, in token of the lasting friendship and gratitude of 
the Graydons. Jezreel’s unaffected piety won Minerva’s 
admiration, and made them fast friends. 


264 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


The day was spent profitably and pleasantly, and the Con- 
ways received a cordial invitation to visit the Graydon place, 
which they did the following spring. Frossie would have* 
been glad to remain several days with her benefactors, but 
it was impossible ; and, bidding them an affectionate farewell, 
was soon with the rest of the party on board the steamer 
bound for Cairo. 

At Cairo they learned that Dr. Lemoine was not at New 
Orleans, but had been touring through Europe for some time, 
and was still absent. The party continued their journey to 
St. Louis, via the Mississippi, for the purpose of visiting the 
ones who had been so kind to Frossie. Father O’Rourke 
was dead. Peace to his ashes. He was a good man, and I 
say of him the most generous and praiseworthy thing that can 
be said of any priest or preacher : he earned his wages. The 
good Sisters of Mercy were overjoyed to meet Frossie again, 
and were sure their prayers to the Virgin Mary had been 
answered, because they had prayed for Frossie’s recovery, 
aud was she not restored to reason ? It was a plain case to 
them, and bless their dear souls ! let them have their own 
way. They received a large number of costly presents from 
the members of the party, and an unlimited amount of heart- 
felt thanks. They retained the kind words and treasured 
them in their hearts, but turned the other valuables over to 
the Catholic Church. Hamlet had written to M. Guzoit and 
wife, and they were graciously welcomed at the asylum, 
where they roamed through the ornamental gardens, inspected 
the interior of the building, and were highly pleased at the 
scientific methods employed in the establishment, in the treat- 
ment of the insane. The Frenchman and his good wife were 
most affable and polite, and could afford to be, for they had 
been paid handsomely for their services. 

From St. Louis they returned home, with the exception 
of Germain and his wife, who toured awhile longer, and did 
not return to their future home until about two weeks 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


265 


later, after which they assumed the duties and responsibilities 
of married life with becoming grace and zeal, each determined 
to make home pleasant and happy. Frossie’s passionate love 
for music returned, and she became noted, in a limited sec- 
tion of the country, on account of her rare musical talents ; 
and I think she would have become famous had she not 
formed a matrimonial alliance. Mixing music with the cold 
facts of married life is like trying to mix sand and sugar. 
The sugar will still be sweet, but much injured by the contact. 

The House of Graydon had been restored to more than its 
pristine glory and influence ; old friendships were renewed, 
and new friends added to the list. Those who had passed 
hasty and severe judgment upon Frossie, relented and re- 
pented, and became her most devoted admirers, seeking in 
many ways to make atonement for their delinquencies. In- 
jured society has a flannel mouth, and when a transgressor is 
vindicated its vocal organs are keyed to another tune. 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 

all's well that ends well. 

In September, one year after Frossie’s marrriage, the fam- 
ily were together one evening for a social chat. I think it 
was the happiest family circle in the world, or at least in that 
small fraction of the world with which I am familiar. Nathan- 
iel was holding Frossie Graydon O’Leeds and Frossie Gray- 
don Weiler, two of his beloved grand-children, upon his lap, 
the happiest grandpa in Christendom — with charity toward 
all other grandpas and malice toward none. Neither Terp 
nor Hamlet were present. The latter having purchased the 
leading county paper, was busily engaged in making it an 
influential and progressive journal. He was prosperous, and 
fast becoming a prime factor in his political party. Terp was 


266 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Still eagerly pursuing the masculine gender, and at that very 
time was engaged in trying to equalize the chances with the 
Baptist clergyman, who had recently lost his companion. 
Subsequently I learned that her efforts were not appreciated. 
O’Leeds entertained them for a long time in expatiating on the 
wonderful precocity of the juvenile O’Leeds, and in telling 
about his wife’s capabilities and possibilities as an artist. 

Minerva’s face was beaming with motherly pride and 
satisfaction. To be thus happily surrounded, in her mature 
years, was to her but a fulfillment of the promise of Scrip- 
ture. The unseen hand of God had led her to the sun-lit 
heights of domestic bliss, and the Strong Arm had never 
failed to support and protect her in seasons of weakness and 
danger. 

Aggie no longer wore widow’s weeds, for two reasons : 
She did not think them becoming to her style of beauty, and, 
furthermore, she was no longer a widow, having wedded the 
Right Honorable Dr. Barnabas Bobbs, Esq., who, notwith- 
standing his ugly name, was a gentleman of good repute in 
society, and high standing in his profession. He was about 
the proper age for the night-eyed beauty, a trifle older, and 
possessing that calm, lenient, thoughtful, and forgiving dispo- 
sition so necessary to the husband of a poet. H^ was sin- 
cerely attached to his charming wife, and her wishes were the 
laws of his domestic life. As he was fond of poetry, Aggie’s 
endeavors to reach fame via the honeysuckle route, were 
pleasing to him, and his approval made her more ambitious to 
excel in the art of rhyming. ‘^Haunted,” a poem by Mrs. 
Aggie Graydon Weiler Bobbs, had recently appeared in one 
of the popular magazines of the day, and Aggie thought she 
had secured a profitable publisher, but alas ! the magazine 
suspended publication at once; whereupon the vicious Terp 
said the poem was undoubtedly the cause of its death ; 
but I know that such a statement is false in every par- 
ticular. On that evening. Dr. Bobbs having been called 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


267 


away from home on professional business, Aggie deemed it 
her duty to spend the evening at the Graydon place. She 
was always welcome there, and was one of the Three Graces 
whose lives were so linked that they must be together, and 
live together in the old love, never to be torn rudely apart, 
nor feel the cruel stings of separation until death shall come 
in the evening of well-spent lives. 

Thalia had been busy all afternoon and evening with her 
crayons, but now laid them aside to converse with her 
mother. After a whispered conversation with her, she flitted 
to Aggie, and the sisters talked in low tones for some time, 
glancing occasionally at Frossie, who seemed to be aware 
that she was an object of unusual interest, for she blushed 
deeply. After awhile Thalia went to her and said some- 
thing in a jolly but insinuating whisper, which made Frossie’s 
blushes still more apparent. Tripping to her husband she 
whispered to him, and of course he whispered to her in re- 
turn. Nathaniel noticed the mysterious manner of his 
daughters, and said, good humoredly : 

“Why am I not worthy of your confidence, Thalia? 
Surely I am entitled to your secret? If not, you should have 
some regard for my nerves, for you must know how anxiously 
eager even an old man like me is to learn secrets which are 
of too much importance to be spoken aloud. 

“Papa,” said Frossie, blushing again and again, “do 
you not wish me to sing for you, or play the new piece of 
music I received yesterday ? ” 

“This is a conspiracy of some kind,” said Nathaniel; 
“else why should Frossie wish to change the subject so ab- 
ruptly ? What is it, anyway ? ” 

“ None are so blind as those who can not see,” ventured 
O’ Leeds, and Frossie was angry. 

“Thee should observe more closely, Nathaniel,” said 
Minerva. “Ignorance on thy part is hardly excusable, but 
if thou wilt, it shall be made plain unto thee.” 


268 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


Worse and worse/’ said Nathaniel. Even my wife 
cries out against my stupidity, and I have no defense except 
my stupidity, for how can I fathom the unfathomable, or 
measure the immeasurable, or see what is not apparent? 
Exj51ain, my dear Minerva, this mysterious something which 
is so visible to all except myself.” 

Oh, papa, it is not absolutely necessary that you should 
know about this secret of ours. It isn’t much of a secret, 
anyway; just a mere nothing about nothing,” said Frossie, 
with a scarlet blush. 

The entrance of Germain reversed the tide of conversa- 
tion for a moment, for he had a greeting for each one, and 
each one had a word for him. It was not the debauched, 
dissipated Germain, nor the jealous-hearted, melancholy Ger- 
main, but clear-eyed, open-handed, impulsively generous Ger- 
main, with his eccentricities buried forever. He was a proper 
companion for his accomplished wife, devotedly attached to 
his business, and was winning a good name in the commer- 
cial world. 

^^What is it, Frossie?” he said, slyly pinching her ear. 
‘‘What mean the vermilion hues of your countenance? 
What a tell-tale thing is a blush ; it is an evidence of guilt, 
and reveals, sometimes, what we would conceal. Confess 
your sins, and we will forgive you right away.” 

“It’s a matter in which you are interested yourself,” 
blurted O’ Leeds to Germain, after an awkward silence. 

“Oh, yes; I understand,” said Germain, feigning sur- 
prise. “ It ’s all about the ” 

“Dear Rudolph,” said Frossie, “will you please hand 
me that spool of silk twist from my work basket, over there 
in the corner ?” 

“To be sure — here it is. As I was saying, you must 
have been twitting Frossie about ” 

“Rudolph!” cried Frossie; “please bring me a glass of 
water. I am quite thirsty from some cause.” 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


269 


And Germain vanished in a twinkling, as all good hus- 
bands should, when requested so to do by their better frac- 
tions. 

Sister, said pensive Mrs. Bobbs, I am sure you have 
nothing of which to be ashamed. It should be a matter of 
great rejoicing to you, for it is the most sacred duty of wo- 
manhood to ” 

‘^Dear Aggie,’’ said Frossie, in tones of distress, ‘^please 
recite your last poem, the one in dialect. You call it, ‘When 
the maize is in the bar’l, an’ the likker is on tap.’ I’m sure 
it’s a good one ; let’s have it.” ' 

“Oh, no, sister,” said Aggie, “dialect is cold weather 
goods, entirely too waxy for warm weather.” 

Germain returned with a pitcher of ice-water, but all de- 
clined the beverage save Frossie, and I do not think she was 
thirsty. 

“As I was saying,” he said — 

“ My dear Rudolph, will you please return the pitcher to 
its proper place? we will need it no more, at present.” 

And Germain retired, as a good husband should retire, at 
the bidding of his wife. 

Thalia smiled at the display of her sister’s wonderful 
ability in buffeting and baffling the current of small talk. 

“Dear sister,” she said, “your ingenuity is worthy of a 
reasonable cause, but you should certainly feel no timidity in 
this matter. I suppose, however, that all women are alike, 
I remember very well when I — ” 

“ My own Thalia,” said Frossie, the scarlet roses again in 
full bloom, “it seems that you are all determined to expose 
me to my dear father, whose perceptive faculties are at fault; 
but really I would prefer to change the conversation to some- 
thing more agreeable and proper. I am sure that this matter 
is not a proper subject for discussion. Let ’s talk about that 
five hundred dollar landscape of yours, and quit this disjointed 
chatter about trifles.” 


270 


THE HOUSE OF GRAYDON. 


‘^Nay, my daughter/’ said Nathaniel, softly; ‘‘what con- 
cerns you is of interest to myself. Be it but a trifle, yet my 
love for you makes it imperatively necessary that I should 
know its meaning. Strange that I can not surmise what 
seems to be so perfectly understood among you all. Speak, 
my daughter, and open my eyes to the truth.” 

Frossie raised her fair head, and, with a look made of all 
sweet accord, answered and said : 

“ Dearest Papa, there is nothing I would keep from you. 
Every thought, every word, every purpose of mine is open 
for your inspection. I have no higher ambition than to lead 
a blameless life, and to be always worthy of the love and 
esteem of my noble parents. I desire, above all things, to so 
live that those who love me may never have cause to regret 
having bestowed their affections upon me; that my friends 
may never cease to regard me with favor, and you, my dear 
Papa, are, above others, entitled to my confidence; but — 
but — ” 

“ Go on, my daughter,” said Nathaniel, with the old-time 
softness and music in his voice. 

Frossie had been busy all afternoon with her needle, mak- 
ing some garments, which, as if by inspiration, she caught up 
and held to her father’s view. It was clothing for an infant ; 
one of the garments was long and white, the other was a 
skirt made of red flannel. 

“In poetical language,” she said, with a sweet sitiile, 
“ these are but shadows of a coming event.” 

It ’s time to quit. 


The End. 





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